Bad Reputation II: Cry Wolf
by SpadesJade
Summary: OK to read even if you haven't read the first one. The new lady deputy is causing more than her share of trouble for the Dukes. But when a corrupt Fed hits Hazzard, will it be Bo and Luke who wind up bailing her out?
1. It's Gonna Be A Beautiful Day

Disclaimer: Don't own the Dukes, I just play in their world.

A/N: If you've come this far, you should know that this is, indeed, a series, but I don't believe that it's the kind of series that you have to read in order. I don't read stories in order so I don't expect others to, either. If you haven't read "Bad Reputation," don't worry. If you read this story and you like it, you'll probably want to go back and read the first one just so you have background, because it really was much more of a set-up story than an actual story.

Summary: When two Federal Agents come to Hazzard ona case they won't discuss, Hazzard's new lady deputy finds herself involved in ways she'd rather not be. The irony is, she who lives and breathes to make Bo Duke's life miserable may wind up depending on him to save her hide. Pride goeth before a fall, and all that.

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"I gotcha, I gotcha!" Rosco cried, even as the Duke boys attempted to flee from where he stood on the steps of the Sheriff's office. They had come running out the front door, flying like a pair of birds who'd just had their wings unbound, all hair and limbs flinging everywhere.

**Balladeer: That would be Bo and Luke Duke, running from the Sheriff once again. I'm sure they ain't broken no law, but that doesn't stop old Rosco from trying to get them behind bars.**

They leapt down the steps and took off down the walk. They didn't take exception to the thick hedges that had always lined the building, didn't notice the person hunched down behind them. It wasn't like the Duke boys to miss such things – it was rumored that the whole Duke family had eyes like hawks, noses like wolves and the cunning of serpents, all with the guile of lambs. The person who hid from them was extremely clever, and small, compared to the size of the Sheriff chasing them.

Henri-Mae put her hands down flat on the concrete of the walk and swung out with her leg, using the other to pivot and steady herself. Sure enough, as her timing was nearly perfect – Bo's cowboy boot rising in mid-stride caught right on her gun belt, flinging him forward. He threw out his hands and luckily landed on the softer turf of the grass that wasn't too far away, but Luke wasn't so fortunate. The tip of her shoe had snagged around his ankle and he spun, landing spread-eagle on his back on the very hard concrete, winded.

**Balladeer: And that would be Henri-Mae Locke, the newest deputy in the Hazzard County Sheriff's Department, and she's got it in for the Duke boys in ways Rosco never imagined.**

Rosco cackled wildly. He'd rarely been so happy, not out of any malicious intent, Henri-Mae had come to realize, but because it was a game and he won so rarely. It was like the Sheriff's department and the Dukes were two gangs of rival boys who played together every Saturday, always against each other, always desperate to beat each other, and always ready to pick up wherever they'd left off, with nary a hard feeling between them.

She'd come to find it mildly amusing. Comforting, even. It allowed her to get in her nasty bits here and there, but never to incur any retribution. It also allowed her to feel far above all of them, even Boss Hogg, who always played the game extremely dirty.

"Git up, git up!" Rosco barked, kicking at Luke, who was gasping to refill his lungs with air even as Henri-Mae straightened herself and smoothed over the blue shirt underneath her close-fitting deputy jacket. She smiled, upping that image to two very _vicious_ gangs of boys. Or rather_, their_ side was vicious, she had to admit. They were always starting everything. All the Dukes had to do to get things going was show their faces in town.

"_Rosco!"_ came Hogg's voice as he fluttered his fat butt down the steps, white coattails flinging behind him. He came to a halt when he saw the bruised Dukes crawling back to their feet, and Henri-Mae looking extremely smug. He did a double-check, and then smiled at her approvingly. "Knew I could count on you, Deputy Locke."

"Oh, I can't take credit, Sheriff," Henri-Mae replied, having figured Rosco out perfectly by day two, and not about to lose him as her strongest ally. "The Sheriff pushed them into the trap and I just swung the door shut, that's all."

Rosco looked extremely pleased with himself. She was vaguely reminded of the image of Wile E. Coyote. Yes, that was Rosco to a T. "That's right, that's right, taught her ever'thin' I know."

"That's why yew got so little left," Hogg muttered. "_Arrest them!"_ he barked. Henri-Mae reached for the younger of the Duke cousins and grabbed his wrist, spinning him so that it nearly twisted behind his back.

**Balladeer: I swear that girl is always anxious for the chance to slap cuffs on Bo. And I'd be willing to be money that he even likes it, a little bit.**

"Not so rough!" he snapped at her, although it lacked venom. It was his way of being rebellious, she'd come to learn. Sometimes, she thought he rather enjoyed it when she cuffed him. He never tried any of those stupid tricks on her like he did on Enos or Cletus, of which she'd heard many stories during long, quiet shifts in the office, drinking coffee.

Being a deputy in Hazzard County really was turning out to be a fun profession. She had never thought she'd enjoy it so much. But she would have rather had her fingernails torn out with pliers than admit it aloud.

Henri-Mae stepped back and let Rosco usher the boys back through the doors, down into the jail cell. The first time she'd had the pleasure of swinging the iron bars shut, she had immediately realized that the key-ring hook was entirely too close to the door, and had moved it at that moment. Which earned her a few bonus points in Boss' book, and a scowl from Rosco. She later told him it had been his idea, and he bought it easily.

"It's gonna be a beautiful day," Rosco said, beaming at her in his childish glee. Henri-Mae had already made her way across the room and sat down at the guard desk, propping up her feet. She was the only person that Boss didn't unceremoniously shove back onto the floor. Possibly the large black motorcycle boots were a bit too intimidating for his pudgy little hand.

"_That_ it _is_, Sheriff," she said, pulling at the ends of the braids she had wound into her long, golden-brown hair. Two of them, one down each shoulder, had given her a bit of a Dorothy look, but it didn't bother her. She gave Bo a cheeky grin from where he leaned on the bars, hands dangling. "And the view is looking just fine."

His lips twisted. To an outsider, one would have thought this was not just routine, but a sign of camaraderie. They would have missed the particularly malicious glimmer in Henri-Mae's eye as the smile faded, but Bo didn't. He never did. His smile wavered and then vanished at the reminder that while Rosco and Boss might be half-playing, she wasn't.

"So who's gonna do the paperwork?" Rosco queried as he started toward the exit, Boss having already made his.

"I guess I will," she sighed. "Gotta make sure to keep that running record we have on the Duke boys updated. What did you arrest them for _this_ time, Sheriff?"

**Balladeer: Usually, that was Jesse's line. Rosco sometimes had a hard time answering it with any kind of patience, but for Henri-Mae he made an exceptional effort. **

"Unpaid tickets," he said. "Lots of them."

"That's not true!" came Luke's voice, and both officers turned their eyes to him. "We came in to pay a ticket and you arrested us!"

"A ticket that was ten minutes overdue on its payment!" Rosco announced. "Bring it on up to me when you're done, Henrietta, so's I can file it. Under D for _Dead Ducks_!" He chuckled manically again, and headed up the steps.

"Boy, Rosco," Luke called after him, "I didn't know you knew that many letters of the alphabet!"

"Weak, Luke," Henri-Mae said, not looking at him. "_Really_ weak."

As the lady deputy rustled through the desk drawer for the right forms, Bo saw an opportunity and took it, but not without Luke giving him a good nudge. "_Henrietta_?" he called, trying hard not to make it mocking. "You let him call you _Henrietta_?"

**Balladeer: One thing you gotta say about Bo, he knows how to push that girl's buttons.**

It was bait. She knew she shouldn't rise to it. She rarely did, unless she was in a particularly cross mood. She wasn't in that mood today, but it was a particular button that she just didn't like being pressed. "What's it to you, Duke boy?" she said, using the voice she had only ever used before when going into nasty-looking bars and having to keep away unwanted attention. It had a high-pitched coldness to it that usually was an instant turn off. It just seemed to goad Bo on.

"Nothin', just never thought I'd see the day when Henri-Mae let a man call her Henrietta, that's all."

She narrowed her eyes. "He won't call me Henri-Mae, and I really don't like being referred to as Locke. It's the lesser of two evils…unlike what I'm looking at here."

Bo grunted, continued to lean on the bars, and Henri-Mae heard a clinking sound. She had to smile.

"Luke, when are you going to learn that you can't get past me?" she said, standing up. She walked over to where the key ring had been disjoined from its place and promptly shoved it back into place. "Face it, redneck, I'm too smart even for you."

Luke gave her what was supposed to be a dirty look, but Uncle Jesse had raised him too well for that. "There's a first time for everything," he said, and just as Henri-Mae turned to go back to her seat, she saw Uncle Jesse standing in the doorway, looking rather disheveled and annoyed.

"Mr. Duke," she greeted him dispassionately, coming around to sit back down at her desk. "Can I help you?"

"I came for my boys," the older man grumbled. "How much is the bail?"

"Boss Hogg hasn't set the bail yet," she said, twirling her pen. "If you'd like to come back tomorrow—"

"I _ain't_ comin' back _tomorrow_," he growled

**Balladeer: He sounds more like a sleepy dog than an angry bear.**

"I'm here now, Cooter told me what happened, and I came to get them out. It's usually two hundred; I'll just leave it with you and take my boys. Come on."

Henri-Mae straightened. This was a first. True, she hadn't been here long, but usually it took a bit for Jesse to get down here. No doubt Cooter had spotted the tripping incident. And that was possibly the reason for the particularly evil eye he was giving her. She'd never had to go toe to toe with Jesse before. Nobody in the department, not even Boss himself, could hold his own for very long against the patriarch of the Dukes. Although Boss could usually hold his own long enough just to get what he wanted.

"Well, I'm sorry," she said, with that same frosty coldness she'd used before on Bo. "But bail hasn't been set yet and I don't—"

Jesse turned around, and for the first time she noticed that he had a white gunny sack in his hand, the kind usually made for toting money around from bank to bank. "Listen, girl, don't give me any lip, I'm _not_ in the mood." She eyed him carefully, noticing that his cheeks were slightly flushed. He lifted up the bag and shook it at her. "I also came by here to drop something off for you, something I'm pretty sure you'll want, so don't give me a hard time or I'll change my mind."

She frowned. "What are you talking about?" She had meant it to be scathing, but since that one time she'd exploded at Jesse, she'd been unable to work up any real malice toward him. Maybe it was because her father's face flashed mercilessly through her mind whenever he was around. "Something of _mine_? How did _you_ get it?"

Jesse sighed, struggling with his patience. He set down the sack carefully and pulled it open. "A few months after your mother…after that," Jesse said, also knowing the limits of propriety and being a kind man at heart, "your father came to me and asked me to hold something for him, until further notice. I've been keeping guard of it for a long time now, but now that you're back and your father is gone, I don't see a reason not to return it to you." He pulled something heavy out of the bag, and she realized it was a rather large, ornately carved box, the kind used for keeping jewelry.

She'd seen that box before. She had always thought that her mother had taken it with her. But here it was, right in front of her, sitting on a pile of papers on the edge of her desk.

"You can open it," Jesse said, as if speaking of a Christmas present. Her expression showed curiosity, but not excitement.

**Balladeer: Anything having to do with Henri-Mae's mother is sure to bring up some bad feelings…**

She pried open the wooden lid. Inside were a few bags of velvet, and her throat tightened as she recognized them. She picked up the green velvet box and pulled it open, revealing the amber and gold ring inside, the amber cut instead of smoothed, so that its facets glimmered with a golden glow – like her father's hair had been, the hair she'd inherited from him.

"You had this?" she asked, not hearing how small her voice became. It was being choked by the memory of him giving her that ring, and her gushing about it because it reminded her of him, and how she always envied his beautiful, honey-toned hair.

"Yeah," Jesse said. "But it's yours…I wasn't sure if you wanted it, after having packed everything up from your daddy's farm and putting it in storage, but I figured I'd let you make that decision."

"Thank you, Mr. Duke," she managed, swallowing the lump.

Jesse looked down at his hands. "You know," he said, very gently, the grumpiness vanishing, "you used to call me Uncle Jesse."

She snapped the green ring box shut, shoved it into the wooden case and then pulled the drawstring tight on the gunny sack. She shoved the whole mess away from her like a little girl shoving away vegetables she didn't want to eat. "Well, my father used to be alive, too. Things change." She looked up at him, eyes suddenly flinty. She stood up, and waved her hand. "Look, pay your bail, take your boys, and go." The stone in her voice matched her eyes.

Jesse sighed and nodded, setting down his two hundred dollars on the desk. She didn't bother to count it, just went over, snatched up the keys, and let the boys out. She didn't once look at any of them. She just wandered back to her desk and sat down, her arms wrapped around herself.

"Thanks for ruining my day, Mr. Duke," she muttered as they vanished up the steps.

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**Balladeer: To catch you all up on a few things, something you gotta know is that Henri-Mae's mother left when she was ten years old. **

**Life hadn't been much better before that. The woman was a drunk. She hid it behind a smile, bloodshot eyes and an overly cheerful disposition, but sometimes she would get riled up, and nobody was safe. True, the woman never had raised a hand to Henri-Mae, but when the woman up and left when Henri-Mae was ten, the girl hadn't quite recovered.**

**Private school had attempted to tame her, to no success. Finally out of options, Cyrus Locke had been forced to put his daughter in public school, at the late age of seventeen, where she'd promptly taken up the cause of attempting to land the football team's star linebacker, Bo Duke. She hadn't planned on them falling in love, and certainly not on him breaking her heart. **

_Stupid ring._ She hadn't seen it in so long, she had forgotten about its existence, but one glance brought it all rushing back. Playing in her mother's jewelry box, getting dressed up and playing make-believe. Her mother in one of her drunken highs dressing up with her, laughing like hyenas, her not knowing why Mommy was so happy but damn grateful for it.

With a heavy sigh, Henri-Mae slid the sack into the drawer and pushed the door shut. Maybe she'd forget about it. Maybe Boss would find it, think it was open game, and sell the damn thing. Her stomach curled at that thought, but it curled tighter at the thought of having it in her room at the boarding house.

There were options…she could take it to Shelly, let her have it. She and her husband lived comfortably enough, managing the boarding house, but they didn't have too many fancy things. She'd appreciate it, and possibly keep slipping Henri-Mae her meals for free. Or maybe she'd take it to Lula Marie and have her sell it through her online business. Did Lula Marie do things like that? She was sure the woman _could_, if she wanted to. She was the computer/internet guru of Hazzard and possibly all the surrounding counties outside of Capitol City combined. Or she could shove it over to Tonya and have the woman pawn it. She knew all the best shops in Atlanta, and could probably haggle her a good deal.

It really wasn't worth the effort, Henri-Mae told herself. She would just forget about it. Forget that it was there. There was enough going on in her life to keep her busy. She'd just let it slip her mind…

Such thoughts were in her brain as she was bringing up the two hundred dollars bail for Boss' safe. As soon as she set foot in the main office, however, something caught her eye.

A man. Tall, lanky, and slick, were the words that immediately came into her head. He had a full head of thick black hair and a matching five-o'clock shadow-like goatee on his chin. He looked more like he'd slept in his suit for forty-eight hours and then rolled out of bed, slapped on some aftershave and gone to work. There was something dark and daring in his brown eyes, something that screamed playboy and letch at the same time. The rumpled look of his suit did little to take away the perfect cut, even if it wasn't high quality.

She'd seen a lot of Feds, but this one had broken the mold.

There was a woman standing behind him, her back to them as she was directly addressing Rosco and Boss. She was a good match for him, and was the kind of woman that Henri-Mae wished she could be -- obviously tough and no-nonsense, but also breathtakingly beautiful, with a long mane of white-gold hair and a heart-shaped face.

And then he winked at her. Quickly, so quickly she was sure it was just a flutter of his eye.

**Balladeer: Two minutes and I already don't trust that boy.**

"Oh, here's Deputy Locke," Boss said, removing his cigar from his mouth. "One of my most reliable men."

At Rosco's look, Henri-Mae stepped forward, extending her hand. "He means, one of Sheriff Coltrane's most promising students," she said, as the other woman took it.

"Agent Gabrielle Stone," the woman replied, her eyes an unusual tint of blue-green. "This is Agent Danny Farrell, we're here on official F.B.I. business."

"Agents Stone and Farrell will be setting up temporary headquarters here," Rosco informed her, "as they work to solve their case. With our help, of course," he added with a Rosco-like chortle.

"Pleasure to meet you, Deputy Locke," came Agent Farrell's voice, like butter soft leather that had been so worn away it was nearly rough.

"Henrietta," Rosco said, "maybe you could go clean up those spare desks in the back room—"

"For you and Rosco," Boss interjected. "We'll let the agents have the ones in the front."

Henri-Mae frowned. So they were being bumped. Oh well, she should have seen it coming. "No problem, Boss," she said, throwing Rosco a commiserating grin before going off to do what she was told.

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A/N: This story, by the way, is finished, and the next chapter is waiting for posting. SO just leave your little review at the purple button down yonder and it'll get the next update up just that much faster. Thank's, y'all. :)


	2. Annual Hazzard Wet T Shirt Contest

Disclaimer: I don't think anyone is interested enough in this fic to try and sue me over it, but all the same, please don't.

A/N: I promised myself I wouldn't get whiny over this. But according to the Stats, about a80 or so people were following the first Bad Reputation. Did it stink that badly? Because I've gotten two reviews for this story. Two! And this is an active category, new stories get added regularly. I'm disappointed. I had 64 hits on the last chapter and two people reviewed.

Come on, people. We don't get paid for this. The only other joy in fanfic (other than the obvious, playing with other people's toys) is getting reviews. Feedback. Critiques. It isn't kind to flip through fanfics and not give them a chance, and if you've gone that far, a few words of opinion, politely stated, are always appreciated. So be kind and review...c'mon people! Every time someone doesn't review a fanfic writer gets a wrist-cramp! (it sounded better than "falls down dead.")

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**Balladeer: People often made the mistake of thinking that Shelly Dunbar was just another pretty face. Truth was, she could sell an umbrella in the desert. And it so happened that she talked Henri-Mae into helping out with the monthly car wash to raise money for the orphanage.**

The cars filled the lot. Everybody pitched in for this occasion, bringing down their cars, which usually required more than one washing a month, and lining them up down the dirt roads for their chance to donate ten dollars to the poor orphans.

Henri-Mae shielded her eyes from the bright glare of the sun. If she wasn't elbow deep in suds and icy cold water, she might have been uncomfortable. As it was, she'd managed to escape getting her shirt too wet, and the shorts were a modest enough length to keep her thighs from getting chapped. Hair pulled back tightly into a braid, she was ready to wash.

Not that she liked it much.

How Shelly had talked her into this, she wasn't sure. Sometimes Henri-Mae wondered if Shelly just put on that pretty smile and fluttered her eyelashes and played cute to keep everyone from knowing what a cunning snake she was. Anyone who could manage a business for Boss Hogg and not wind up owing him her soul had to be clever.

Truth was it just reminded Henri-Mae why she and Shelly were still friends.

Something was running around her feet. Smudging the stray hairs from her eyes, she realized it was little four-year-old Molly, Shelly's daughter. Their two year old, Tom, was staying with his paternal grandmother for the day, too young to be of help and too old to stay out of trouble without continuous watching. The girl was giggling.

"Can't hit me with the water!" she chanted, sing-song. "Can't hit me, can't hit me!"

Henri-Mae smirked. She liked the little brat, as much as she bridled at the thought of being called "Auntie Hen," which had become her new nickname. The girl had a serious rebellious streak in her, and yet was without the typical selfish whiny-ness so common for four-year-olds.

Lifting up the hose, Henri-Mae pressed down and shot. The spray barely glanced off Molly's heel as the girl giggled even louder. "Can't hit, can't hit!" she called, more loudly.

Accepting the challenge, Henri-Mae continued to follow the trail the girl left behind, squirting randomly. She figured she deserved a break, after having tackled three cars all on her own while some of the other volunteers went to lunch. And Molly was proving a very difficult target – maybe she could write it off as target practice later, for Rosco, she thought with a small laugh.

Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Bright orange and horribly obnoxious, the General Lee slipped down the street, its wheels collecting the newly-made mud of the road from where the hose water had soaked it. It carved its own path, and the two occupants waved at the passer-bys, as the Dukes were simply beloved by all of Hazzard County.

Daisy had already come by, earlier that morning, on her way to the Boar's Nest, which was open early for lunch that day. Boss was never one to miss out extra business. Of course, he was also quick to demand that the sheriff cars be washed for free, since they were all government employees and it was a public service. When it came to his shiny white Cadillac, however, Shelly drew the line, and somehow got Boss, who never relinquished money, to donate twenty dollars for an extra buff job.

She wasn't watching where she was squirting the hose. She turned around in time to hear a familiar shriek, and for a moment felt a wave of triumph – had she finally drenched little Molly? But no, the green eyes staring wide at her in shock and incredulity belonged to the little girl's mother – who had managed to keep her backside dry until that moment.

"Oh, hell," Henri-Mae muttered, but was starting to laugh in spite of herself, as Shelly's panty-lines began to show. "Uh, sorry!" she tried a little louder.

"Sure," Shelly said, drawing a breath as she reached down for the bucket of soapy water at her feet. "_Sure_ you are."

"I was aiming for _Molly_!" Henri-Mae protested, backing up. She raised the hose between them. "Don't make me do it again!"

"Don't worry," Shelly said, reaching down with one free hand and yanking at the hose where it lay on the ground. Abruptly Henri-Mae found her hands quite empty. "I won't."

"I said I was sorry!"

"And I heard you," Shelly said, stalking nearer, bucket raised. Henri-Mae had her hands out, her only defense, and wasn't watching where she was going. She bumped into something soft, and jerked to move around it, just as Shelly raised the bucket and started to pour.

In a matter of seconds, Shelly was staring at her husband, head-to-toe soaked with soapy water. He was looking at her with the same expression she'd been given Henri-Mae not a moment ago.

"Oh, _sorry,_ honey," Shelly said, smirking.

"No, but you're _going_ to be," Lloyd said, raising the hose. He hit her full in the face even as she went rushing backwards. Sputtering and glaring, she turned on Henri-Mae, grabbing up the other hose.

"This is your fault!" Shelly said, her voice sing-song and not the least bit angry.

Henri-Mae was laughing so hard she couldn't get her legs to work. But there was a tug on her hand and she felt herself being pulled to the side, just as the spray came right at her.

"Run, Auntie Hen, _run!" _came Molly's voice.

Chaos erupted.

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Bo had just come up to the lot when the scene broke out. The Dunbars and Henri-Mae were occupied with some kind of game of water-tag, and it was not a sight he had expected to see. First Henri-Mae was running from Shelly and a hose with Molly's hand clutched in hers, and then Henri-Mae had seized up the little girl and was holding her in front of her like a shield. Molly was giggling hysterically, dripping wet, even as Shelly was being sprayed from behind by her husband, who was drenched in suds.

Bo watched for a moment, eyes caught on Henri-Mae. She was smiling…that was a rare enough sight nowadays. Sure, she smirked and looked smug and grinned wickedly, but right now her face was bright and open and relaxed, and the laughter he remembered so well from their earlier days rang across the lot in long peals. She ran with Molly in her grip like Bo used to run with the football, shielding the girl carefully but at the same time letting Molly take all the water hits.

He missed her like this. Happy, free. It made him ache to see her now, and know it was such a rare sight. Sick as he was of her harassment, and as much as he liked to tell himself that she'd gotten her pound of flesh and seriously needed to lay off him, moments like this never failed to make him realize how profoundly Henrietta Mae Locke had changed in the last seven years.

Because of _him_.

"What can we do you for, boys?" came Cooter's voice, breaking Bo from his reverie. Luke was eyeballing him, and Bo snapped himself out of it.

"Well, we need to get the windows rolled up," Bo said, "if we're gonna wash the car."

The laughter was turning into loud shrieks now, until the volunteers had nearly forgotten what they were there to do. Cooter pulled open the doors and jimmied the window mechanism, and slowly but surely brought up the glass that hadn't seen daylight in possibly years.

"They sure are having a lot of fun over there," Luke said. "I wonder if they could get that pretty Fed agent to join in, maybe get her to wear a white T-shirt."

Cooter chuckled. "Maybe we could talk them _all_ into a white T-shirt contest," he suggested.

"_Shame_ on you," Bo said, whipping his head around. Henri-Mae, as much as she liked Cooter, as he kept her old bike running without charging her an arm and leg for it, would have socked him in the mouth to hear him suggest it. "Don't you two have any _respect_ for women?"

Luke and Cooter stared at him for a moment, as if they didn't recognize him.

"Think he's been out in the sun too long," Cooter said slowly.

"Or been driving too fast with the windows down and wind's gotten to his head," Luke agreed. Bo would have retorted but his attention was drawn away by the honk from Jesse's truck as he finally reached his turn in the car-wash line. He handed over his vehicle to a small pack of teenagers who seemed responsible enough, and tottered over to join the boys in front of the garage.

**Balladeer: If I didn't know better, I'd swear Jesse was lookin' like he was takin' sick. But Jesse ain't been sick in nearly twenty years.**

"What are you up to?" Jesse asked, half gruff and half teasing.

"What_ever_ do you mean, Uncle Jesse?" Cooter asked innocently.

The older man narrowed his eyes at them. "Any time the three of you are standing in one place, with a gaggle o'girls running around in another place across the street, there's trouble brewing." Jesse shot Bo a quick look, took in the mildly flushed cheeks, and did a quick calculation. "Henri-Mae helping out?"

"Surprised Shelly talked her into it," Luke said. But just then a sight caught his eye and he pulled himself upright, straightening his shirt and smoothing down his hair. Having caught the signal himself, Bo did a quick once-over and felt his million-dollar smile coming onto his face.

**Balladeer: Yeah, that's Bo Duke, Ladies man extraordinaire. Henri-Mae may have gotten under his skin, but after all he hell she'd put him through some months ago, he was pretty much determined to stop killing himself with guilt. Nothing like guilt to ruin a man's social life, anyway. **

Gabrielle Stone and her partner, who was pretty much just a name and an F.B.I. badge to them when her sparkling violet-blue eyes and platinum hair were nearby, came around the corner, apparently having a low-key conversation. It stopped, not abruptly as if they'd been caught, but naturally, in a way that only people who worked for government agencies could handle.

"Mr. Cooter Davenport?" Gabrielle asked, fishing in her pocket for her wallet. The other guy, Danny something, already had his badge out and had flicked it briefly for Cooter's appraisal. "Can we ask you a few questions?"

Not having seen the Fed up close yet, Cooter shot Luke a glance that clearly said, "You were right," and tipped his hat to the lady. "That's me, ma'am," he said, "and you can ask me anything you want. Can't promise what the answers will be, though."

Gabrielle turned those strange purplish eyes to Luke and Bo and gave them a nod of acknowledgement.

**Balladeer: Yep, you can be sure the boys met this pretty agent up close and personal at their farm just the previous day, and true to Duke form, the boys had flanked her right and proper the second she'd set herself down on their living room couch. This always managed to intimidate the ladies, even if the boys never mean no harm by it. Gabrielle had gone on with her questions and sipped her tea as if the boys weren't there. Such unflappable-ness was sure to just quicken the cousins' interest.**

"Well," he said, flipping in a notebook she produced from a coat pocket, "we were talking to Miss Tisdale at the post office, and she reported having spotted you in the area about two weeks ago, on the seventeenth of May, when a particularly nasty incident happened just outside the Hazzard County Bank, run by Mr. Jefferson Davis Hogg?"

"Yes, ma'am," Cooter said, straightening. "I was towing a car out of the public square." He shot Bo and Luke a look. "These are the boys you should be talking to about that, though, ma'am, as they were the ones who got mixed up in that mess – unjustly, I might add."

Gabrielle flicked a shoulder. "Oh, I've already questioned the boys, and I'm sure I'll do it again." She shot them a look that clearly said, _I'll bet you're looking forward to it,_ but went on. "I wanted to get your interpretation of events."

Cooter started talking, but the boys hardly heard it. Cooter had bitched his poor newly-shaved head off for nearly a week after the incident, being the only one in town who hadn't been invited proper to the wedding. Of course, Bo and Luke were quick to point out that _they_ hadn't been invited either, but that was different, Cooter said. The Duke boys and Sheriff Coltrane had never been friends, why would he invite them to his wedding?

Gabrielle, though, listened to the story with interest – which wasn't surprising, as the story had actually _been_ half-interesting the first three or four times Cooter had told it. The cousins, however, were quite interested in looking at her, and did so rather unabashedly, as was their way. This might have made some women uneasy, but just like being flanked on the couch, she went on as if they weren't there.

"I just love it when they play hard to get," Luke murmured to Bo.

Bo didn't answer. He'd been about to, as that was really the sort of thing he would have said, but there was another sight catching his attention out of the corner of his eye, and he turned in time to see Henri-Mae herself coming down the drive, wringing out her hair.

He stiffened. Why did her sudden presence, as he was clearly oogling the pretty Fed, suddenly make him feel as if he'd been caught cheating all over again? Determined, he pushed it away, and shifted his feet, turning his back to her.

If Henri-Mae noticed, she gave no sign. She went right on over to Cooter, not missing a beat. "I'm sorry," she said, "is this a bad time?"

Gabrielle was scribbling something on her notepad. Her partner, who had been observing everything with a rather distant air, suddenly reminded everyone of his existence. "It couldn't ever be a bad time for you," he said, his smooth and gravely voice reminding the boys that yes, indeed, there was another attractive man in the vicinity.

Henri-Mae glanced at him quickly, having already figured out from the wink she'd seen earlier, as well as the few other comment he'd shot her way, that this man was apparently interested in her. Almost against her will, her eyes slid to Bo, but then away again when she saw he wasn't looking back.

"It's okay," Gabrielle said, shooting her a winning smile. "I was just finishing with him." She flipped her pad shut. "Deputy Locke?" she added, a frown brushing her brow. "Did you get caught in a sudden rainstorm?"

Henri-Mae looked down at her soaked clothes. Perhaps she would have been mildly embarrassed, but in the presence of another alpha female, the fact that her clothes were clinging to her rather tightly, showing off her well-shaped feminine form was actually a bonus. "Car wash," she said breezily. "You two bring a car? I know how dirty the roads of Hazzard get, you should get it washed. We're raising money for the orphanage."

"They still have orphanages in this world?" Gabrielle replied, mildly surprised. "I thought that went out with Daddy Warbucks and President Roosevelt."

"In Hazzard, they're a little behind," Henri-Mae said with a smile and a tone in her voice that was a combination of disdain and pride, quite the contradiction. That managed to drag Bo's eyes to her for a second, but he quickly jerked them away.

"Where is the orphanage?" Gabrielle asked. "I'd be curious to see it."

Henri-Mae opened her mouth to reply, but Bo was fast. "Oh, we'd be glad to take y'all on over there," he said with an eagerness that locked her jaw in place. "We can go right now if y'like?"

Gabrielle blinked slowly, glanced at Bo, and then back at Henri-Mae. The awkwardness of the moment was handled easily by Henri-Mae, who squared her shoulders and turned to Cooter. "My bike ready?" she asked.

"Just about," Cooter said. "All that's left is the bill."

**Balladeer: Now Cooter don't mean to be mean, but he's been burned by the Sheriff's department enough times to be wary of anyone with a badge coming to his garage.**

She patted the back of her shorts, creating a wet slap. "I don't have any cash on me right now," she said, "but I'll come back later, after the car wash, and pay you, okay?"

Cooter shrugged a shoulder. It really wasn't like him to hesitate to let someone have their car, even if they hadn't paid for it yet. "I suppose," he said, "considering you didn't offer to pay me by tearing up some of my unpaid tickets."

"I tried, but Boss wouldn't let me have any," she said dryly, and then winked at him. Cooter chuckled.

"Real cash, huh?" he said.

"Promise," she said, holding up two fingers.

"Come on, it's inside," he said, jerking his head. "Did you need anything else, Agent Stone?" he asked the Fed, as if just remembering she was there.

"If I do, I'll let y'know," Gabrielle said, the local accent having finally got to her.

Farrell stepped forward, up beside Henri-Mae. "You ride a bike?" he asked. "What kind?"

"Some old clunker," Henri-Mae admitted. "It got it in the city, second-hand. Runs pretty well, but it's getting old."

"That much is true," Cooter said as he led them into the garage. "I don't even know how much longer my magic fingers can keep that thing running."

As they disappeared inside, Bo and Luke turned to converge on Gabrielle, but she wasn't paying them the least bit of attention. She was flipping through her notepad, re-reading old notes and biting the end of her pencil.

"Did you want to go see the orphanage?" Luke suggested.

"Yeah, I know a really pretty scenic route," Bo added with a flirtatious smile.

Her eyes drifted up to them, distant. "No thanks," she said. "Think I'll go get the car washed." She turned slowly on her heel, shoving her notepad into her back pocket. "Bye."

"Bye," Bo said, as he and Luke watched her go, a bit left in the dust.


	3. Depends On How Friendly

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"No offense," Danny Farrell said, "but Mr. Davenport is right."

"I know," Henri-Mae sighed, rubbing the side of her face in weariness. Even with its new repairs, her bike looked exactly how she'd described it – like an old clunker. "But right now she's all I got."

"You know, with what the costs to get this one fixed up, you could buy a new one," Cooter suggested. "I know a guy—"

Henri-Mae cut him off with a shake of her head and a smile. "I appreciate it, Cooter, but…"

"But?" Danny pressed.

"I know this guy in Atlanta," Henri-Mae said after a thoughtful pause. "Does custom bikes. Really pretty, top-of-the-line stuff, all the latest hardware. I was thinking of getting in touch with him, seeing what he could get me." She smiled, a bit dreamily. "I've wanted one of his bikes for the longest time."

"You spent time in Atlanta?" Danny asked.

She nodded. "Come to think of it, Cooter," she said to the mechanic, "I'll pick it up later, when I come pay you. I don't want to ride it when I'm all wet."

"No problem," Cooter replied, hiding the relief in his voice. "It'll be here when you get back."

Danny and Henri-Mae bid him goodbye – at least, Henri-Mae did – and they headed back out, through another door, past where Bo and Luke were still mildly shocked at Gabrielle's brush off. Henri-Mae glanced at them out of the corner of her eye and couldn't help a rather triumphant expression.

"Your partner is quite the looker," she said airily.

Having noticed what she noticed, Danny smirked. "Yeah, she's like that," he said. "Although I think she's not _into_ boys."

Eyebrows shooting up, Henri-Mae spun on him. "What? You _serious?"_

"Well, I can't get her to go out with _me_," Danny said lazily. "So what _else_ can I figure?"

Henri-Mae sighed. This guy was Bo with darker hair and a nicer suit, without his blue-eyed innocence to keep it charming. She felt a twist in her stomach. "So you're a real ladies' man, huh?"

**Balladeer: Now I know I don't like that boy, but I'm starting to think Henri-Mae don't either. Guess the girl does have a pretty solid head on her shoulders. Sometimes.**

Danny shrugged, a failed attempt at modesty. "You'd have to ask the ladies, but…" he trailed off, giving her a suggestive look.

Henri-Mae cleared her throat. "I guess I would," she returned dryly, already bored with the conversation. "Well, I gotta be getting back to the car wash, and—"

"You want to have dinner tonight?" he asked, quickly.

She froze. It caught her off guard – not just the invitation, but the realization that no, she did not, in fact, want to have dinner. "I think I'm on duty tonight," she said, and it sounded lame to her own ears.

He gave her a "yeah, right," look, but was undaunted. "Another time then," he said.

"Sure. See ya." She quickened her pace as the car wash came in sight, shooting him a goodbye grin over one shoulder as she returned to the safety of the Dunbar family.

"He's cute," Shelly said as Henri-Mae came within earshot. "A bit slick, but cute."

"Not slick at all, in the right way," Henri-Mae muttered. "I don't know…he's dreamy at first but when you get closer it's all messy."

"Like _Monet_," Shelly suggested, her tone sardonic.

Henri-Mae giggled. "Yeah, only _without_ the artistic genius."

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Later that day, when the car-wash was over, and the humid summer evening was turning into an equally humid summer night, only a few people were milling about, as most of them were saving their energy for the dance coming up next week. Henri-Mae had long since noticed that people in Hazzard had little enough to do, so they were quite creative at inventing their own activities, and attending those activities in abundance.

Sometimes, she missed the city. Things were always moving in the city.

"So what did you do?" Shelly asked her as dusk streamed in through the windows, as Henri-Mae was helping her straighten up the main lobby. Having changed into dry clothes, Henri-Mae was in a rather good mood, thinking fondly of summers spent running about in the sprinkler system, and the feeling of coming in after all of that wet and being warm and dry and having it feel so good after being sticky and uncomfortable…

"Where?" Henri-Mae asked, fluffing one of the couch pillows.

"In the city," Shelly asked. "I mean, in the evenings, for entertainment."

"A lot of what we do whenever Tonya comes into town," Henri-Mae answered vaguely. "Go to clubs, drink, pick up guys."

"Really?" The look on her face was definitely disappointed, although she struggled to hide it. "That's it? I mean…"

Henri-Mae looked at her, biting back a smile. "Yeah, it was shallow," she said. "It got old quick."

"So you still did it?" Shelly asked. "I mean, seven years…"

"Well, the first three years I pretty much worked my ass of to keep from starving to death," Henri-Mae said, plopping down onto one of the plush couches, making sure it was still up to specs.

Shelly bit her lip. Henri-Mae had known this was coming eventually. Shelly had been attempting to prod bits and pieces of her mysterious vanishing from her without much success, as it wasn't really something Henri-Mae felt the need to discuss. And then there was the fact that Shelly had a serious weakness for gossip. Sure, she was a mother and a responsible person, but she talked. She liked to talk. It seemed to be her hobby.

Thank God, Molly came and interrupted them. "Mommy!" the four and a half-year old called as she rushed into the room. She held up a box of cereal. "Empty!"

Shelly sighed, taking the box. "I keep forgetting to go to the store," Shelly said.

"You manage a hotel," Henri-Mae pointed out. "Don't you have a kitchen?"

Shelly tossed her a look. "You think Boss doesn't keep a strict inventory?" she remarked. "Sure, I can snitch a thing or two, but still, we keep our own pantry."

"I can go," Henri-Mae said. "I want to go say hello to Lula anyway…and I'll take Molly," she added brightly.

Shelly gave her another look, this one incredulous. "Really?"

"Sure!" Henri-Mae winked at the four-year-old. "It'll be fun! Won't it?"

Shelly bit her lip again.

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"Can't see what the big deal is," Bo muttered as he scanned the aisle. "I mean, its just shampoo, can't Daisy—"

"You really want to get into this, Bo?" Luke quipped. "Come on, hurry up."

"Why do _I_ have to get it?" Bo asked. "Why can't you?"

"Because nobody'll buy _me_ buying girls' shampoo. But you, _you_ got all that pretty hair-"

Bo just grunted as he caught the sign for shampoo and headed toward it. Just as he'd picked up the bottle something barreled into his legs.

"Hey!" he called, looking down into the freckled face of little Molly Dunbar. She looked a lot like her dad, who helped Shelly run the hotel. Dark hair and large blue eyes, even the same smile. Bo and Luke had wound up chatting for a good while with Lloyd that day while the car was being washed. The three of them had struck up an interesting friendship ever since that night Lloyd had directed them to the club where the girls had gone in Capitol City. And Molly, who was definitely a daddy's girl, picked up the hint.

"Bo!" she chirped. She was holding something her hand, something plastic with wheels. She held it up to him for his inspection.

"Is that a car?" Bo asked, and leaned down to see it was, in fact, a toy motorcycle. It did not escape his notice that Molly was also suffering from a little bit of hero-worship ever since Henri-Mae had moved into the boarding house.

"Bike!" Molly said. "Like Auntie Hen's!"

As if on cue, Bo caught a flash of honey-brown hair, dark as amber and still wet from the day's activities, dressed in a pair of loose shorts and a plain white button-down shirt. She wasn't looking, but was instead scanning a row of boxes, eyes squinted as she read the labels.

"What's the big deal?" Henri-Mae was muttering. "It's cereal…I mean, how many different kinds of cereal can you make?"

Bo wanted to say something to her, announce his presence, make a quip about how he was having the same problem with the shampoo, anything to make this a normal, every-day run-in at a neighborhood general store. But he stalled too long and lost the chance to Molly's eagerness.

"Auntie Hen!" Molly called, turning and running to her, bike outstretched in her hand. "Can I have? Please?"

Henri-Mae's eyes went from the boxes to the object in Molly's grip. "A bike?" she said. "Would Mommy let you have that?"

Deflating, Molly drew back. "No," she said, disappointed.

"Then absolutely," Henri-Mae said, lowering the basket she clutched for Molly to deposit it inside. "It's yours."

Molly giggled as Henri-Mae winked at her, and then her eyes traveled up and saw Bo.

There were so many different blues in the world. Blues like oceans, blues like skies. Light blues and dark blues, green blues and purple blues. Bo had been complimented for his own eyes more times than he could count, but still, to this day whenever Henri-Mae turned her aquamarine eyes on him, he could still remember the first moment he'd caught her looking at him, in the hallways of Hazzard High.

"Good brand of shampoo," Henri-Mae said as she strode past him, quirking an eyebrow down at the bottle. She gently grasped Molly's hand with her other free hand as she added, "It'll keep that pretty hair of yours all nice and shiny."

"It's not for me," Bo said, feeling utterly lame. "It's for…Daisy…"

But the conversation was over.

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Walking down the street, back toward the boarding house, Henri-Mae carried the shopping bags and Molly helped with the small items she could. All in all, Henri-Mae wondered why in the heck she hadn't taken Shelly up on her offer to loan her that little plastic cart she used – no, Henri-Mae had said she didn't want to take it because she didn't want to look like an old woman, pulling along that gaudy thing. Now she regretted it.

Between Lula Marie's General Store (she hadn't been back yet from her little business trip) and the boarding house was the Sheriff's station. Enos was on duty, pulling up in his vehicle and climbing out. Someone was with him – someone in a neatly tailored, not-so-expensive suit and a head of thick dark hair.

"Agent Farrell," Henri-Mae called, almost cheerfully, as he turned and waved at her.

"Hello again, Deputy Locke," he replied, coming around the car. Enos stood there for a moment, unsure.

"I'm going in to file the report," he called, in his respectful and slightly tentative way.

"That's fine, Enos," Farrell waved over his shoulder, hardly sparing the man a glance. "I'll be along in a few…shopping?" he asked, pointing to her bags.

"No, actually I was thinking of taking up residence on the streets of Hazzard," Henri-Mae replied. "What do you think of me as a bag lady?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Prettiest bag lady I've ever seen," he said.

"So what did you do today?" she asked, changing the subject. "Out with Enos? Painting the town?"

"Oh, checking out some old barns, really, abandoned farms," Farrell said.

"You know, Agent Farrell, you've never really shared the details of your investigation—"

"Well, when you're on duty again, Deputy Locke, we'll have to see if we can't discuss it," he returned, then added, "Why don't we just get rid of the Agent and the Deputy and call each other by our first names, like friendly people?"

"Depends on how friendly," she remarked dryly. "But fine, just don't call me Henrietta like Sheriff Coltrane and I won't have to kill you."

Danny chuckled, and then looked down at Molly, who was rolling her plastic bike on the ground idly while the adults talked. "And who is this?" he asked.

"Oh, my friend's daughter," Henri-Mae said. "Molly, say hello to Mr. Farrell."

"Hello, Mr. Farrell," the little girl dutifully replied.

"She's sweet," Danny said, but his eyes dragged back to Henri-Mae. "So when will you be on duty again?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," she said. "I get to sleep in."

"So you're free tonight?"

Classic line. He was going to ask her out. She felt the need to deflect him, but her eyes caught the bright orange of the General Lee making its way out of town and she felt her resolve kick in. She wasn't _dead_…and maybe Danny Farrell was a gentleman after all.

"A bit late notice," she said, "but ask me again, and we'll see." She winked at him as she headed off down the street, Molly at her heels.


	4. Part Of A Bad Ending

"Uncle Jesse, you're sick," Daisy insisted.

"I ain't been sick in years!" Uncle Jesse scoffed. He was on the couch, his face an unbecoming shade of red, and he was shivering slightly. "Ain't thrown up since I was knee-high to a grasshopper—"

Luke was busy carrying out the bucket that showed the break in that particular record. "Smells like it, too," he grumbled.

Bo came into the room, a bowl of soup cupped in his hands. "Uncle Jesse, you gotta eat something," he insisted.

"I ain't hungry," Uncle Jesse mumbled.

"Get the crackers, Bo," Daisy said. "He can't handle soup right now."

"I don't want crackers neither!" But the words were cut off by a short bout of coughing, followed by a miserable groan. "Oh, I gotta lie down," he muttered.

Daisy let her uncle lie down on the couch. Bo carried the soup back to the stove and heard the faint sound of the hose splattering against the metal bucket, just outside. The humid Georgia summer bubbled up around them, making all the windows and doors stay wide open to let the occasional breeze come through. It was a very strange time for Jesse to get sick, he had to admit.

There was a soft set of crunching footsteps approaching the house and a familiar voice greeted Luke. Within a few seconds the door was swinging open and Gabrielle Stone was in their living room, looking remarkably formal even though she had lost the formal-looking suit jacket and was down to her short-sleeved white blouse and dress pants. Bo couldn't help but notice that her arms were powerful – not thick, but muscular and wiry. He imagined she kept herself in pretty good shape.

"Hello, Duke clan," she greeted cheerfully as she came deeper into the house. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

Daisy laid a blanket over Uncle Jesse, who was already dozing lightly. "No, Uncle Jesse is just feeling a bit under the weather," she said.

"Lovely weather to be under," Gabrielle said, casting a concerned look at the older man. "Well, I was hoping to speak to the three of you." She glanced over her shoulder at Luke coming back inside. "Could we talk in the kitchen?"

The cousins nodded and went to their kitchen table, offering Gabrielle a seat, which she took without a fuss.

"The real reason I came by," she said, tapping the end of her pen on the old worn wooden surface, "is because I want your help."

**Balladeer: Now this was rather typical, the Dukes getting stuck in the middle of whatever mess had landed on Hazzard that week.**

"You guys may think that we don't pay much attention to the small counties, but we do. Your Mr. Hogg dipped his fingers into the wrong pot and got our attention. A lot of the reports filed always seem to mention you in some way, as either being the catalysts to clear things up or patsies for whatever scheme the man attempts to pull. Yet he always wiggles out of it and you never bring him up on charges. Can I ask why?"

All of this came out so regulated, transitioning easily from casual conversation into a rather intense question, that the cousins just stared at her blankly for a moment.

"You think we're covering for Boss Hogg?" Luke finally asked.

She shook her head, smiling. "No, everyone I've ever talked to about your relationship with Hogg is quick to say how much Hogg hates you. Says he and your uncle ran moonshine together ages ago, but that there was some kind of bad blood. Any idea what that was?"

"Us," Bo quipped.

Gabrielle raised an eyebrow, waiting for more.

"What I think Bo means," Daisy said, "is that the boys have a tendency to stick their noses into Boss' business. They have a thing for fighting the system. Any system," she stressed. "On top of that, ever since they were busted for moonshine running a few years back, Uncle Jesse swore to the U.S. government that he was out of the moonshine business. I don't think Boss ever forgave him for that."

"Yes, I was privy to the probation arrangement," Gabrielle said, chewing the end of her pen cap. "But why haven't you pressed charges? I mean, none of the piddly things he's ever tried to stick on you could have held in a court of law. You know you can sue for false charges, don't you? Clean him out?"

"That's not really our way," Bo said.

"It's hard to explain, Agent Stone," Luke said, taking the forefront.

"Could you try?" Gabrielle asked.

"Well," Bo said, ignoring Luke's attempt to control the conversation, "it's like all of us here in Hazzard are like a big family. And families, well, they fight, they get mad at each other, but in the end they all make up and things go back to the way they were."

"So if Hogg wasn't around to bother you anymore, you'd miss him?" Gabrielle asked.

"Better the devil you know than the devil you don't," Luke said.

She nodded. "I can understand that. But what confuses me is why you've protected him."

"Protected him?" Bo echoed, a bit shocked.

"Well," Gabrielle said, flipping through her notepad, "if I were to list all the accounts of attempted robbery and fraud, I would be here all night. Into the next morning if I were to go on with all the phony schemes that have been busted up this way, which have all pointed to Hogg. But somehow, evidence is either lost or no one presses any charges. Now, you're about to tell me that Hogg owns just about everything in his county, everyone's job depends on him, and all of that…but it doesn't quite gel for me. You've had more than one opportunity to get rid of him for good, and you haven't."

The cousins looked at her suspiciously. It didn't sound like an accusation, the way she said it, but it lingered around her, in those strange blue-violet eyes.

"Are you asking us if he's paid us off?" Luke said finally.

"It would put my mind at ease if you'd say he hasn't."

Bo gazed at her, perplexed. "How would you know that we weren't lying?" he couldn't help but ask.

She shifted those eyes to him, and Bo felt like something much bigger than he could ever imagine in his life was staring him down. Accompanied by a grin and a little wink. "I'd know. I'm very good at spotting a lie."

"No, ma'am, he hasn't paid us off," Luke said. "Dynamite couldn't get money loose from Boss Hogg's hands. And as for no charges every coming up against Boss, well, his last name ain't Hogg out of coincidence. He's slicker than a greased pig."

"But he _has_ given you money."

"Reward money, sure," Bo said. "And any other money we've gotten from him has been pried from his fat little fingers with a crowbar."

"And he's got a really tight grip," Daisy quipped.

Gabrielle nodded. She seemed, oddly enough, satisfied with this. "All right," she said, "so, since you seem to know him pretty well, are you aware of anything he might be doing now?"

"You never know _what_ Boss is doing," Luke said.

"Could you find out?" Her look was deadpan, very serious.

"You want us to spy on Hogg for you?" Bo asked.

"I would do it myself," Gabrielle said with a sigh. "Problem being, he thinks Agent Farrell and I are here investigating some felons who passed through here a month ago. And he's near impossible for either one of us to approach – the man's eyes go three hundred and sixty degrees, like a lizard. He'd see us coming, but you…well, you seem to have a way about you."

"So it's Hogg that you're investigating?" Daisy asked.

"That a problem?" Gabrielle asked, brow furrowed as if in genuine concern.

"Well, we want to cooperate with the law," Luke said, "but…well…"

"What if I told you that he's recently hired a person with a criminal record as a member of his Sheriff's department?"

All three sets of cornflower-blue eyes swiveled on her. "You mean," Bo said, "you're talking about…"

"Henrietta Mae Locke," Gabrielle said, switching back to her pad. "Arrested four years ago for grand theft. Spent two years in a New York penitentiary." She raised her eyes to Bo, a new light there. "How well do you know her?"

Daisy and Luke twisted slightly, uncomfortable. Bo drew a breath. It really wasn't any of this woman's business, but…"We dated in high school," he said.

Gabrielle blinked, waiting for him to go on. When he didn't, she said, "It ended badly?"

"That's one way to put it," Luke muttered. Bo shot him a look but it didn't really matter.

"So why did she come back to Hazzard?" Gabrielle inquired, folding her arms casually.

"Don't you know?" Luke asked, catching on to the routine.

She gave him a slight nod and a grin tugged at the corner of her lips, but didn't bloom. "I wanted to know if _you_ did," she said.

"Her father died," Bo said. "Several months ago. She came back here to take care of her father's farm."

"And she just…stuck around?" Gabrielle frowned. "And decided to work for the same man whose personal mission statement seems to be to drive you people out of Hazzard? That hasn't been a cause of concern for you?"

Luke shrugged. "We're used to the members of the sheriff's department not liking us too much. One more or less doesn't seem to matter."

"I suppose not," Gabrielle said slowly, considering them with a casual air, but those odd eyes seemed to glimmer with something none of them could place. "I suppose Boss Hogg has tried just about everything there is to try."

"A couple of times over," Daisy said. "And he never fails to come up with some new dirty trick. We've beaten him every time before and we will again. We don't worry about it."

With a nod, the agent flipped through her pad again. "Did you know about Deputy Locke's criminal record?"

"No, but I'm sure Boss Hogg does," Bo added, a bite in his words.

Luke shot him a disapproving glance. Gossip was something Uncle Jesse really frowned on. "We don't know for sure, Agent Stone," he said, "but with Boss Hogg's reputation, I can guess."

That hint of a smile curled into a grin. She knew a lot of things that they didn't, and that was something the Dukes expected from someone in a high ranking law enforcement position. It was, however, the _way_ she knew these things, the depth and width and breadth of them that played across her face and taunted from behind her words that kept their eyes on her -- not just the striking beauty that she seemed to be quite aware of and not the least bit interested in having.

And it didn't help that the country folk had met their share of idiots in their day. People who underestimated them time and again. Gabrielle Stone…she seemed to know everything and anything at a moment's notice, and nothing fazed her, no matter how out-of-normal it seemed.

"All right," she said slowly, the words rolling about her mouth, "let's recap, make sure I have everything straight. Locke and Bo dated, it ended badly…what happened then? Why did she leave Hazzard?"

The discomfort in the room dropped to a nearly unbearable level.

**Balladeer: Now can't you just see both Daisy and Luke turning to Bo? Poor guy's gotta be embarrassed enough as it is by all of this. **

"Part of the bad ending?" Gabrielle suggested, weighing everything perfectly. "She was reported to missing persons on the same day her year commenced graduation. She's reported on file as having graduated but there aren't any records of her enrolling in a college anywhere. What was she like, if I could impose on you?" She shot Bo a look. "I'm not asking for details about your relationship, you understand, I just want to know about her."

"A troublemaker," Luke said. "Was in and out of private schools because she kept getting expelled."

"Her mother left when she was ten," Bo said softly. "She had a lot of anger, but she didn't talk about it much."

"Not even to you?" Gabrielle asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Occasionally," Bo said. "Rarely."

"So she wound up in Hazzard Public because no one else could take her…sounds like her family had money. I take it farming was a good business, or was her father a moonshiner like the rest?"

"Her father was never a moonshiner," Bo said. "He was one of the few who wasn't. He and Uncle Jesse were good friends…if he gets better while you're still here you can ask him about it."

"Well, we all know farmers don't make that much money, so it had to come from somewhere outside. Her mother maybe?" Gabrielle asked.

"None of us knew her mother, ma'am," Luke said, "except Uncle Jesse."

"Might Boss Hogg have known her mother?" Gabrielle asked.

The cousins exchanged glances yet again. "What are you implying?" Luke asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Gabrielle said with a feckless smile. "Just trying to put all the pieces together. Anyway, she leaves Hazzard after this break-up, spends time in New York, somewhere along the line gets arrested for grand theft and spends two years in prison." She paused, that look on her face again, but she didn't direct it at any of the Dukes -- her thoughts were entirely private. "Then she comes back here because of her father, sells her farm to Boss Hogg and gets a job in the sheriff's department."

"Have you asked Henri-Mae anything about this?" Daisy suddenly asked. "I mean, questioned her directly?"

"If I did, she'd certainly think I was investigating her," Gabrielle said in a completely non-condescending sort of way. "I can't have that, because I'm not. But I am concerned that she might be being manipulated by Boss Hogg, or else she might be manipulating him. It takes a considerable amount of balls, if you'll pardon the word, for a man to hire someone with a criminal record to work for a law enforcement agency. This indicates that either Boss Hogg is behaving in an uncharacteristically naïve way, he has a particular scheme in mind, or he himself is being manipulated."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Luke said.

"You think Henri-Mae would do that?" Daisy said, turning to Bo.

Bo just looked thoroughly miserable. He had seemed so bright before, but a lot of bad memories came back. He hadn't ever thought that Henri-Mae would seduce him and then make it look to the whole town like he had taken advantage of her, but she had. And he was seriously fighting off the urge to shoulder his burden of guilt yet again.

"I'm not sure," Gabrielle said. "But there is a way to find out. What would it take for Boss Hogg to start up one of his scams again?"

Luke chuckled bitterly. "The wind to blow," he said. "The man's always cooking up something foul."

"Think you boys could find out what it was?" Gabrielle asked. She drummed her fingers against the table as they hesitated. "Not that I'm asking you to do anything illegal," she added, "and if you were caught, of course I'd deny any involvement…"

"We usually wind up getting wind of any scheme Boss is up to," Luke said with a smirk. "We'll let you know."

"What about Henri-Mae?" Bo asked softly.

Gabrielle gave him a very straight look. "Leave her to me," she said. "I promise to be gentle."


	5. To The Victor Go The Spoils

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Also, the opinions of the characters do not reflect those of the author. :)

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Henri-Mae hated night shifts, just on the principle that night was the time to sit around on your butt and watch television, and not worry about the next day. But it was her night tonight, which left her the morning to do with as she pleased, which had its own benefits.

**Balladeer: Hazzard wasn't the backwards place city-folk liked to see it as when they passed through. In spite of Boss' various plans at embezzlement, there had been enough in the county funds that year to set up some nice sports equipment in the public park, which included some basketball courts, a tennis court, and, at Lula Marie's suggestion, a racquetball court. Now, racquetball wasn't entirely new to Hazzard -- the high school had had a decent team for a short time, until there had been a general uprising among the parents at the potential violence of the sport. Go figure. Another thing you need to know was that it was the only sport in the entire world that Henri-Mae would waste a morning on. She only wished there was someone worth playing.**

"Hey," called a voice, and Henri-Mae was rather relieved to see that it was the female Fed, not Farrell, entering the court. She was dressed in a slick one-piece athletic uniform made of something stronger than spandex but with the same supple tones. No sleeves revealed the woman's muscular arms, although those strange black Doc Martins she wore effectively cut off whatever sex appeal her legs might have shown, as the shorts ended a good few inches above her knees.

"Hey," Henri-Mae called back. She eyed the woman warily as she set down her stuff on the nearby bench. Then she noticed the racquet. "You play?" she asked.

Gabrielle nodded, her golden ponytail bobbling in the morning sun. Her smile was open, unassuming. Henri-Mae had never really trusted people who tried to make friends with strangers, but this woman had an easy way, and her friendliness seemed real, not faked or exaggerated.

"It's been a long time since I've had some worthy competition," Henri-Mae said. "You up for a game?"

"I was waiting for you to ask," Gabrielle replied, producing a ball. She bounced it sharply on the ground and caught it with a flick of her wrist. "You want to serve?"

"I'll let you," Henri-Mae said, gesturing with her racquet toward the long black wall. With a gracious nod, Gabrielle bounced the ball on the ground, where it reached a perfect height for her to send it soaring.

It bounced back, and Henri-Mae took a single step backwards. With a backhand she sent the ball back into the wall, where it came flying back. Gabrielle reached up a hand and caught it.

"You ready to play for real?" Gabrielle asked.

"I was waiting for you to ask," Henri-Mae sent back.

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"What do you think she meant?" Luke asked.

"You're asking me?" Bo replied. He looked back out at the road from the passenger's seat. "How would I know?"

"Well, I was pretty sure you'd have a colorful guess," Luke murmured, smiling playfully.

"Well, unlike you," Bo said, brushing his fingers through his blond curls, "I have more things to think about than last night's conversation."

"Yeah, right," Luke muttered. "Like maybe the pretty eyes of the conversationalist…or her long legs…"

"Hmm..." Bo said as they pulled into town. "Speaking of…" He pointed.

Luke followed the point. Right in the middle of the racquetball court that nobody used, a familiar pair of legs effectively cut off by a pair of Doc Martin boots weaved back and forth around another pair, much more exposed. A closer look revealed one figure dressed in black with golden hair, and the other dressed in a simple old pair of shorts and a T-shirt with hair pulled back in a thick golden brown braid.

**Balladeer: Now you think Bo and Luke are going to miss out on watching Henri-Mae and Gabrielle going at a game, both of them trying to tear the other's throat out with their teeth? They moved so quickly it was like two buzzing bees, vibrating with the motion of their wings. **

"Oh, this I gotta see up close," Luke said, parking the car. The two slid out of the car windows and went hopping across the street.

They weren't the only ones. A small crowd, mostly of teenage boys who had come by to play on the basketball courts, had started to gather. And it was no wonder. The sweat ran down their faces, soaking the front of their shirts, plastering the stray hairs to their foreheads. The game was fierce, no fouls called, no hit left unreturned.

Gabrielle was extremely good. She could jump high and run at a nearly inhuman speed. She went from one end of the court to the other, legs leaping like a gazelle. She could spin on her toes like a ballerina and hit the ball so hard, more than once it flew right past Henri-Mae to zing off the links of the surrounding fence.

This didn't mean that Henri-Mae was content enough to take it. She tried as hard as she could to keep up, but it left her gasping and panting for breath. Still, she swung and the ball returned, coming faster each time, each smack with the racket sending the projectile hard into the wall.

To the outside eye, it was pretty amazing. In a normal game of racquetball, the players can only run for so long before one of them stumbles and/or misses. The two girls danced around each other, feet hitting blacktop so hard the clumps echoed down the street. No sound came from their lips save their heaving breaths and occasional grunts of exertion, much more often from Henri-Mae than Gabrielle.

Gabrielle scored first. Henri-Mae lunged for the ball and her ankle twisted underneath her, causing her to tumble. She caught herself, fingers digging into the links of the chain fence, and pulled herself upright. She shot Gabrielle a look over her shoulder, but there was no gloating or smug expression there. She was just watching.

Waiting.

Seeing what she would do.

Henri-Mae picked up the ball and tossed it at her. It was Gabrielle's serve, and she seemed to almost want to take it easy on her for a moment. The first hit was too easy to return, and in a burst of pride, Henri-Mae slammed it back so hard that it hit the edge of Gabrielle's rocket and bounced off toward the side.

Gabrielle had missed.

The woman stood and watched as the ball rebounded off the back fence and rolled to her feet. She picked it up, bounced it in her hand, and then looked up at Henri-Mae, her expression almost appreciative.

"Pretty good, aren't you?" Gabrielle said.

Henri-Mae could not speak. All she could do was shrug one shoulder. With a grin, Gabrielle tossed the ball up into the air, right toward her. It spun for a moment in the morning sun before it came down and was soundly whumped back into play by Henri-Mae's racket.

She hadn't even caught the ball to serve it. She had just smacked it back into play. The slight widening of the Fed's eyes was nearly comical, if not for the fact that with a flick of her wrist, she returned the ball, her brow suddenly furrowing down. One corner of her mouth, however, curled up into a grin.

The ball came back. On her last leg, Henri-Mae realized that she wasn't going to win this game. In a last effort, though, a show of pride and ability, she watched as the ball started to soar overhead, arching downward just a touch, where it would land on the court not three feet from the fence and give Gabrielle the lead.

Henri-Mae knew that would be it. Gabrielle wasn't going to let her guard down again. She wasn't going to score again. She only had one choice.

All these thoughts flickered through her head in milliseconds. The ball was coming, arching almost in slow motion, and she had to do something.

So she jumped.

She jumped the way she watched professional basketball players on television jump. She tucked her knees up under her and let them push her an additional few inches into the air. The muscles in her arm screamed from the strain as her racket went up, and when she made contact with the ball, it hitting the dead center of her racket and going in a straight diagonal down toward the wall, the force pushed her the other way, and the next thing she knew, her back slammed into the top of the chain-link fence.

She slid, feeling the metal scrape through her shirt, barely protecting her skin. Her landing was rough, and she threw her weight forward so not to break her toes or snap her tendons. However, her knees hit the ground and moved a good inch. When she managed to pull herself up, her knees were bloodied like they hadn't been since she was six.

Gabrielle, however, barely spared her a glance over her shoulder as the ball came careening back toward her, and she swung—

And missed.

The ball bounced once and rolled to a stop. Gabrielle's eyebrow arched slightly, half from surprise and half from concern. "You okay?" she said to Henri-Mae.

"Fine," Henri-Mae said, the stillness having allowed her to regain a bit of her voice.

"You want to stop?"

"Why? Because I'm winning?"

Gabrielle smirked. "No, because you're bleeding." She pointed.

Henri-Mae didn't even look down. "I know." She stepped over to the bench and grabbed a towel. "Doesn't hurt."

"I know."

Henri-Mae looked at her. Then, inexplicably, she started to giggle. Gabrielle started to giggle, too, and soon the two were nearly doubled over in laughter.

"Do you know what we're laughing at?" Henri-Mae asked when she'd gained her breath for the second time.

"Beats me," Gabrielle said between chuckles. "I was just thinking how you and I may as well each grow a pair, with all the testosterone flying around here."

"Oh, yeah, I'm real macho," Henri-Mae snorted. She pressed at her knees with the towel.

"So it hurts?" Gabrielle quipped.

"Stings, more like it," the other replied. "But I'll live. I've done worse."

"Have you?" Gabrielle said conversationally, and just as Henri-Mae was about to reply, her eyes drifted over the other woman's shoulder and narrowed. Gabrielle turned her head to see Bo and Luke approaching.

Gabrielle turned back to Henri-Mae. The deputy's face had closed. She leaned back against the fence and folded her hands on her lap, waiting.

"That was pretty amazing!" Luke called, coming over to crouch down beside Gabrielle. Bo stood, hands on his hips in one of his typical "look at me" poses.

"Never seen girls run that fast," Bo said.

"Unless they're runnin' _away _from you," Luke quipped at him.

"Ha _ha_," Bo shot back.

"Boys," Gabrielle said, raising one hand. She was cut off when she saw Henri-Mae get to her feet. "Where are you going?"

"To get cleaned up," Henri-Mae replied. She glanced briefly at Bo, and then Luke, her smirk curling into something hard and fake. "Maybe get some first aid. Have them sterilize the blacktop. Wouldn't want to spread anything."

"Wait, you don't—" Gabrielle started, beginning to rise, but Henri-Mae cut her off…again.

"To the victor go the spoils!" Henri-Mae said with a kind of cheerfulness that was at once cold and mirthful.

"But _you_ won," Gabrielle stressed.

"Exactly," she said, tossing the bloodied towel over her shoulder. "See ya." And she headed off the court.

Gabrielle rose and watched her go, hands on her hips. Then, she turned and looked at Luke and Bo. "You two have lousy timing, you know that?" And she picked up her racket and headed off the court as well.

Luke and Bo exchanged glances. "What'd we do?" Luke asked, but there was something in his face that belied its meaning.

"We screwed up, somehow," Bo said. "Think she was trying to talk to Henri-Mae?"

"Think it was a good idea for her to do that?" Luke asked.

"It was last night," Bo said.

"Been thinkin' since last night," Luke countered. "I don't know about our little visiting Fed. Something keeps telling me she's shucking and jiving us."

"Us?" Bo looked wounded. "However could she do that?"

"By not telling us the truth," Luke said. "I don't think she's investigating Boss. I don't think she needs Henri-Mae. There's something else…especially with that partner of hers. Maybe we should do some investigating ourselves."

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Her knees ached slightly that afternoon. Henri-Mae sat at her desk, shuffling through papers, wondering why she'd let Bo and Luke chase her away like that. Gabrielle had seemed friendly enough. She actually came across as if she were trying to make friends before, and instead she'd run away like an uptight cheerleader.

Cheerleaders being Henri-Mae's word for the lowest form of life, of course.

Danny Farrell came in, files in his hands, pouring over papers. He'd been giving her the respectful distance all that day, being polite to her, offering her coffee, even holding doors. But the truth be told, he wasn't acting terribly interested in her that day. He kept slipping in and out of Boss' office, staying in there for up to a half-hour at a time. Every now and again Henri-Mae could hear a cackle or two. It didn't bode well. The last time she heard Boss laugh like that, ((Some reference to Season 3)

Finally, around her dinner break, he sauntered up to her desk. "Do they let you eat?" he asked gently. He seemed rather clean-shaven that day, the five o'clock shadow – which had been quickly turning into a ten o'clock shadow – having been banished, but threatening to return, lingering around the edges of his face. Some men were just like that…very hairy.

She didn't really care either way.

"Yes, they let me eat," she said with a sigh, reaching into her desk drawer for her sandwich.

"What did you bring?"

"Turkey sandwich," she replied absently. Shelly had given it to her on the way out the door, like a mother handing her child a school lunch. But all the exertion from earlier had still not been amply countered, and even as she ate, she knew it wouldn't be enough.

"So you're stuck at your desk for the dinner break?" he said a bit wistfully.

"No it's just…" she paused. She had been about to admit that she didn't have anything else to do. Shelly would be busy having dinner with her family. Lila would most likely be dealing with her business contacts on the West Coast. Everybody had their own life, and currently, Danny was the only person in the office besides her.

"Just what?" he pressed.

"Nothing," she said, finishing her sandwich in a few more bites.

"Well," Danny said, "maybe if you're not stuck at that desk, I can convince you to join me for some ice cream or something."

**Balladeer: One of the greatest things about night life in Hazzard is the homemade ice cream. Poor Henri-Mae didn't stand a chance.**

_Ice cream_. It sounded good, especially some mint chip. "Sure," she said, standing up. "But you're buying."


	6. Are You Trying To Be Scary?

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

A/N: Hey, you twenty people who have been following along? REVIEW! Please? Because as you can see, my numbers ain't high, and that ain't inspiring me to post faster. So be a pal, help me out, drop me a line. Thanks!

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"So you grew up here?" Danny asked as they strolled back toward the office in the sunset. It was a quiet evening, the air around them turning purple in the dusk. Henri-Mae licked at her home-made ice cream, relishing the freezing of her tongue.

"Yeah," she said. "I left when I was eighteen, for the big city. Came back when my father died." It was the short, short version of things, but all she was willing to share at the moment.

"And decided to stay?"

She shrugged. "There are worse places to be."

"I can imagine. I've lived in the big city my entire life, and this is like a dream to me." He looked around, and the slight dreaminess that came across his expression made him look even younger.

"What, you long for the nice, quiet country?" she teased, biting into her cone. "It's not that quiet, truth be told."

"Well, it's a long way from where I live," he said. "Nobody looking at you all the time, people give you space—" She chuckled. It had a distinctly sour edge to it. "What?" he asked.

"You haven't been around here long enough," she said, wiping her hands of the rest of the crumbs. They climbed the steps up to the Sheriff's office, and he grabbed the door for her. To her surprise, Luke and Bo came out, stumbling a bit as the abrupt opening of the door before them.

"Oh, hello there," Bo said, "Deputy…Agent Farrell."

"Bo," Danny said, a bit easily. "What brings you two to the Sheriff's office? From what I've heard, this is the last place you two want to hang out."

"Well, we're law abiding citizens like the rest," Luke started, but Henri-Mae snorted. Luke pretended to ignore it. "We came to settle up with Rosco."

"Yeah," Bo said, "but there wasn't anybody around here who was workin', so we just left it on his desk." His eyes were on Henri-Mae, something simmering there that she just couldn't resist.

"You leave money, or another one of those rubber checks?" she cracked.

"Well, we figured Boss had so many of his own, he wouldn't be able to tell the difference," Bo returned.

"You know perfectly well that Boss only takes cash," she said.

"Oh, I forgot, rubber checks are what he pays _you_ with."

She glared at him, but attempted to smother it. "At least some of us make an honest living."

"Well, let me know when you find one," Bo said. Henri-Mae watched him go, as he strode away with Luke, not looking back. Bo had never been like that to her…at least, not so openly. Sure, he enjoyed taunting her a bit more than normal, but now he was starting to act like…

"Henri-Mae," Danny urged, "close your mouth before a fly goes in."

She snapped her jaw shut and then stormed into the office.

"So what's between you two, anyway?" he asked as he shut the door behind them. "You two look at each other like…" he searched for a proper expression, "like Ross and Rachel after one of their breakups."

She stomped over to her desk and pushed several stacks of paper aside. "Oh, he just wants to get into my pants and I won't let him," she said, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder.

Danny arched an eyebrow. "That's not what _I_ heard," he said.

Her eyes snapped up to him. "What _did_ you hear?"

"That you two used to go out." He rolled his eyes thoughtfully. "That it ended very badly, and when you came back to town you didn't waste any time getting even."

She glowered. "Who told you that?"

"Oh, a little bird."

"Or a little Boss?"

Danny chuckled. "You and I both know that Boss is many things, and _little_ is not one of them."

Begrudgingly, she cracked a smile. "Yeah, I suppose. But for future reference, _I_ was right and _Bo_ was wrong."

Danny shrugged. "Maybe, but a man's pride can only take so much punishment before he refuses to roll over and take it anymore. I'd say your ex-beau Bo has officially made his declaration of independence."

"So be it," Henri-Mae muttered.

"So what did you ever see in that little hayseed, anyway?" Danny asked, strolling over to her desk.

Henri-Mae leaned her chin on her hand. She knew better than to answer, but still, the question did get her thinking. And that was never a good state to be in.

"I was young," she said aloud, to appease him, knowing he would press until he got something. "I was stupid."

Danny nodded, but he didn't buy it. He leaned on her desk, forward so that he was partly bent over her, looking down. His tie dangled a few inches from her face. "You were young…and like all the young girls, you liked a bad boy?"

She sniggered. "Bo was a lot of things, but I don't know if _bad_ really qualifies."

"Oh, sure it does," Danny said. "Arrogant, cocky, a mean little cuss when he wants to be…and he was cruel enough to hurt you, wasn't he?"

She dragged herself away from the thoughts of Bo on the football field, eyes proud, that superciliousness oozing from him, contrasting with the rather bashful boy she'd wound up chasing. He knew what he was and he didn't shy away from it. But he'd told her that she was the only person to ever really scare him.

"Amazing how some things never change, isn't it?" Danny said, pulling away. "You going to be on duty in the morning?"

"Afternoon," she said absently. "Afternoon evening shift until the end of the week."

"Fine," he said, going to his desk and picking up some papers. "I'll see you then…first thing, I'm going to need your assistance on a patrol."

"Why not now?" she asked. "It's still light out."

He glanced out the window. He shook his head. "Nah, it can wait until tomorrow." With a wink, he was out the door.

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**Balladeer: It did occur to her to be curious about what exactly these Feds were doing in Hazzard. Henri-Mae was many things, but stupid was not one of them. So part of the reason she came across as so eager to assist Agent Farrell the next day was so that she might get a clue as to what exactly was going on.**

"We're headed out to an old abandoned barn on Route 55," Danny said as they exited the office. Henri-Mae turned toward the car sitting in the designated spot, but Danny moved on toward where her bike was parked. "How about we take this?"

"My bike?" Henri-Mae asked. "It's kind of old, beaten up…you sure you want to take it?"

"Well, you just got it fixed up by old Cooter Davenport, didn't you?" Danny said, reaching for her helmet, which hung securely from the handlebars. "Isn't he supposed to be the best mechanic in seven counties?"

"Eight, actually," Henri-Mae muttered. "Well, if you're sure." She took the helmet. "As sure as I am that your head is hard enough not to need a helmet, then fine." She winked at him and slipped the helmet over her head, then climbed on. He smoothly mounted behind her, his hands going securely around her waist. "You sure you wanna muss up that pretty suit?" she asked over her shoulder after gunning the engine.

"I'll stay close enough to keep the dirt off me," he said in her ear, and she felt a strange tingle down her spine.

Now, there were many ways for a spine to tingle. Sometimes it was excitement, anticipation, lust…and then there were the tingles that went into the stomach and made it feel like a garden full of worms had just taken up residence and were currently doing their morning aerobics. This kind of reaction puzzled her. It wasn't like she hadn't ever been creeped out before, but Danny seemed hardly the type to _worry_ her.

With a miniscule shrug, Henri-Mae took off down the street, Federal agent securely fastened behind her.

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"You're having second thoughts?" Bo asked as they bumped over the rougher parts of the road. Normally, Bo would be driving, but he seemed terribly preoccupied, so Luke took the wheel for a change.

"No, just…this whole thing just ain't sitting right with me."

"So you've said," Bo sighed. "Multiple times over."

"Now, Bo," Uncle Jesse chided from the back seat, "A man's got a right to think things through as many times as he needs to before making the right choice."

Daisy, from beside him, snorted. "The right choice," she said. "Listen, I tell you Bo, your head is never right when it comes to Henri-Mae. You love her, you hate her, you pant over that pretty Fed and then you have a jealous fit in front of that other Fed charmer—"

"I don't hate her," Bo muttered.

"It's just not like you to be this crazy over a girl," Daisy declared, folding her arms.

"Well, that isn't exactly fair," Uncle Jesse said. "Bo was gonna marry her, although God knew why he wanted to throw away his freedom so young. Those first loves never really leave you. Stands to reason there's some trouble getting things resolved."

"Can we not talk about it, please?" Bo moaned, eyes going out the window. He felt Luke give him a look, but decided to ignore it.

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"What's here?" Henri-Mae asked as she slipped off her helmet. Danny was already on his feet and walking toward the bar, small flashlight pulled from his pocket and ready to go.

"Let's have a look inside and see, shall we?" Danny asked over his shoulder. There was something about his smile…Henri-Mae reached for her own flashlight and followed. It was police business, after all.

Inside, there was nothing. Just an empty barn with old leftover hay scattered across the floor. It didn't even have the usual junk inside it that most abandoned barns were prone to accumulate. High walls, a big loft, and a ceiling that still looked to be mostly in good shape. Danny walked around it, flashing his light randomly here and there, making muttering noises under his breath, occasionally saying an off word, when he came back around and stopped beside her.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"About what?" Henri-Mae replied, not having moved much. Her eyes told her plainly it was open and empty, without any aid from her feet. "It's a barn. What were you expecting?"

He leaned just a little closer to her. She felt his breath against her neck when he spoke.

"Exactly what I'm getting."

She looked up at him, hiding the fact that her heartbeat had suddenly decided to accelerate. She curled her lips down into her mouth and licked them, then said, "And what are you getting?"

"Some alone time with the prettiest deputy in seven counties."

"Eight," she said, turning away. Cool and calm always worked. Getting rattled, acting all nervous, those were dead giveaways. They just seemed to excite the guys, but the cold attitude would buy her time as well as keep him at a distance. "Well, now that we're here, what did you expect us to do?" As she said it, she stepped away, casually, calculatedly, knowing exactly how much distance she was putting between them and how much more she would need to get comfortable.

Danny, however, would have none of it. He slid in front of her, the stray sticks of hay scratching between the soles of his shoes and the old floor as he moved. "Why, Deputy Locke, you wouldn't be afraid of little old me, now would you?"

She wanted to step back. Very much so. She didn't. She smiled up at him, careful to keep the panic from her eyes. "Why, are you trying to be scary?" she asked.

He shrugged one shoulder, his chin dipping down in such a way that made her think, maybe for a moment, that she had misread him, that this was a misunderstanding, that he was just getting a little carried away with his flirting and that she had nothing to worry about. "Depends on if you like scary," he said.

She cocked her head to one side. There was a hardness now in her face, a set in her jaw and a gleam in her eyes that told him plainly that she was taking control, whether he liked it or not. "Not particularly," she said with a measured amount of disdain. "I did almost marry Bo Duke, resident cream-puff of Hazzard Country. The sweet, innocent, angelic type still seems to work for me. Maybe you should try it."

He chuckled, eyes sparking with unpleasant mirth. "Now that's not what_ I've_ heard," he said. "I've heard that Bo Duke is something of a big bad wolf."

She shrugged. "Nobody's perfect." She made to turn away again, and again he put himself in her path, this time invading her personal space much more obviously.

"No, that they aren't." His hand settled on her hip, and she brought the temperature of her expression farther down.

"Well," she sighed, letting the chill fill her voice, an artic blast of sound, "if you know so much about people, why don't you tell me what you _claim_ to have heard." She dropped her eyes to his hand, as if it were some vile thing she wanted removed, and then glared at him, mentally giving herself a good three feet on him, even if she was a half-head shorter.

"I heard," he said, his hand sliding along her hip and settling on her waist in a most familiar fashion, "that for all of Bo Duke's huffing and puffing, he just couldn't bring down your little house of stone."

"Brick," she said, the word a crack of sound from her throat, like a slap.

"That if a man wants to knock the boots with you, they'd better be on their game," he went on, oblivious.

She arched an eyebrow. Every part of her showed derision, but she didn't take the step back. It was about calling the bluff. If she gave a single inch, he would be all over her. "And did they happen to mention that I have a nasty habit of seriously hurting people who piss me off?" she said.

"They _did_ mention that," he said, his voice slow and thick like molasses, and he leaned in. "Seemed like the perfect challenge, really." Realizing he'd given her no other choice, Henri-Mae brought up her knee, but to her utter shock, he twisted to the side and her joint hit nothing but air.

Then, the world spun, and she was suddenly slammed on her back against the barn wall, his hands gripping the front of her blue shirt and tearing it open.

The sudden shock of open air against her skin was enough to make her open her eyes. She managed to catch a glimpse of his face as it zoomed in toward her, becoming a blur of unshaven black hairs and the smell of his aftershave. She jerked her head to one side, dodging his mouth, and was unpleasantly rewarded by a very rough squeeze of her right breast.

"Handle with care, buddy," she said, forcing herself to relax. There was one more trick that would work…it had to work. _Go limp. Pretend you've given up_. She let her head go back and rest against the wall, and just as his own head went down, his mouth going toward her chest, she arched it forward and slammed her forehead right into his nose.

The impact was almost enough to knock herself out. She heard the cracking, felt the pain, the warm ooze of blood against her skin. Instead of lifting her knee, she moved forward with a left punch down, hitting him right in the groin. He groaned, slumped and backed off, giving her a straight shot toward the door.

Her bike stood waiting. She didn't bother with the helmet. She threw one leg over and hit the starting lever—

And got nothing.

"Shit!" she screamed, and looked up in time to see him coming out of the bar, blood soaking his white shirt, holding his nose with one hand.

"Bitch!" he managed, although it sounded like he was talking through a mound of dirt. "You broke my nose!"

"I'll break a lot more than that if you touch me again," she said.

He let his hand drop. The blood on his cheeks and lips gave him a diabolical look. Henri-Mae swallowed, feeling the fear rising up, wondering what in the hell she was going to do, if she could outrun him---he was on her again, yanking her off her bike, dragging her back toward the barn, his anger giving him an inhuman strength.

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"What the hell is that?"

Luke was startled to hear Bo speak. His cousin had fallen into a rather sullen silence, convincing him that Bo was in a very sulky state. But as soon as he looked up, he saw the old abandoned Miller's barn along Route 55, Henri-Mae's bike parked beside it, and Henri-Mae having a rather ugly tussle with a man who had a bloodied face.

Henri-Mae brought up her foot and kicked forward like a mule. Her heel caught his knee and pushed it the wrong way, causing him to yelp and collapse like a house of cards. She spun on her heel and headed toward the road.

Only to have her eyes collide with Bo's.

"Oh great," she said as she screeched to a halt in front of the General Lee, which Luke had immediately stopped, upon seeing a lady, even Deputy Locke, in such apparent distress.

"Get in!" Bo said, as the man with the bloodied face groaned and started to rise. The obscenities coming from him were almost enough to make Uncle Jesse blush.

Henri-Mae seemed to consider it for a moment, looking over her shoulder at the rising lump of man on the grass. Then she threw herself head-first through the General's window. As Luke took off, she righted herself with the slickness of a snake, and wound up between Bo and Luke, looking very peeved.

"I'm using your radio," she said, reaching for the CB. Her tone booked no argument, even though it was completely unnecessary. "Sheriff Rosco, this is Deputy Locke, can you read me, over?"

The cackling of static was followed by Rosco's annoyed voice. "Yes, what is it, Henrietta? I'm about to get off shift, over—"

"Stuff your shift, Sheriff," she snapped. "I need you to get the medics over to the old abandoned barn on Route 55. I've got an officer down."

"Officer down?" Rosco sounded puzzled. "What happened, Henrietta, you hurt?"

"Not me," she said, pulling her shirt closed. "Agent Farrell. His nose is broken, possibly a few other extremities."

"Well, how did that happen?" Rosco went on, oblivious to the urgency of the situation.

"I broke 'em," Henri-Mae replied. "When he attacked me. Come along and place him under arrest. I'm charging him with assaulting an officer."


	7. I'm Not The Enemy

Disclaimer: Just a good ole' fanfic writer, never meanin' no harm...so don't sue.

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"You broke his nose?" Bo asked stupidly, staring at her. She was a mess -- the tussle had yanked hairs from her braid and sent them in multiple directions, There were marks on her neck that looked like they had come from someone's fingernails, and right in the middle of her forehead her skin was so red it looked almost sure to bruise. There were even a flew flecks of blood on her left cheek, and Bo went for his handkerchief in his pocket to wipe them away.

"Don't," she said, jerking her head away. She still clutched the CB in her fist, and there was a glazed look on her face, one of shock and anger and who knew what else. Her other hand gripped the collar of her shirt, which had been so wide open before Bo had seen her undergarments. He gave a quick glance at Luke, as if checking to make sure he hadn't seen it too. Although the way she'd climbed into the General, it was a near impossible bet that he hadn't.

**Balladeer: You know, I feel sorry for her. No matter how nasty a girl can be she still doesn't deserve to be treated like that. **

"Henri-Mae," Uncle Jesse said from the backseat, leaning forward. She seemed to hear him and winced as if he were some creature lurking upon her from behind. "Tell us what happened. Whose nose did you break? Who were you running from? Where's Agent Farrell?"

"Back there," she said her, voice strange and hollow. She didn't go on. Then the CB blurted to life in her hand and she jumped as if she'd forgotten about it.

"Deputy Locke?" came a female voice. "Are you there? This is Agent Stone, over."

Henri-Mae's eyes went down to the CB, staring at it as if it were poisonous. Then her thumb moved over the switch and she said in a controlled voice, "Yeah, I'm here."

"What happened to Agent Farrell, over?"

"Not sure," Henri-Mae said. "Listen, I also need Cooter down here. My bike won't start again, over." And with a flick of her thumb, she turned the radio off and set it back on its place on the dashboard.

Bo continued to stare at her. He'd seen her run from Agent Farrell. He'd seen the man with a bloodied face, but more than that he'd seen Henri-Mae's expression right before he'd grabbed her and spun her around.

He'd seen Henri-Mae look that angry before. In a barn one summer night, and she'd been mad at _him_.

"What did that guy do to you?" he asked, leaning down and speaking softly, yet firmly, right into her ear. Her eyes jerked to him, and for a moment, he was sure she was going to crack. Dissolve into tears right there, possibly in his arms. He knew if that happened, he would gather her up and hold her close, no matter what any member of his family might say.

Instead her lips parted to reveal that her teeth were pressed very hard together, her attempt to bottle her emotions inside. "When we get to the Sheriff's department," she said. "It's too ugly of a story to have to tell more than once."

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The Sheriff's office was nearly abandoned when they arrived. Only Rosco and Boss Hogg were there when Henri-Mae went inside, the Duke clan at her heels.

"What in tarnation is going on here?" Hogg demanded, and then he caught sight of his deputy. "Henri-Mae Locke, what the goodness gracious—you look like you've been attacked!"

**Balladeer: Hmmm…Rosco's quick today.**

"I have," she said, going over to her desk and sitting down. She proceeded to rife through her desk and didn't stop until she came up with a small pack of papers. "Rosco, take this. I need you to fill out an assault report."

"Well, what happened?" Rosco asked, looking down at the paperwork with distaste.

"That's what we've been waiting to hear," Daisy said, attempting to come forward and offer some womanly support.

Hogg's eyes went from Henri-Mae's state to Bo and back again. "Did these ruffians attack you? 'Cause I'll put them in jail faster than you can whistle Dixie—"

"No," Henri-Mae said, her voice a bit louder than necessary. "No," she said again, softer. "Not them. Agent Farrell."

There was a commotion outside. The doors swung open and Enos stood beside Agent Farrell, handkerchief soiled with blood but still pressed up against his nose. As if on cue, Bo nudged Luke and they turned, settling themselves between Henri-Mae and the Fed.

He didn't look happy.

"Depudy Logg, I'm shogged at your unprofethional behavior." At least, those were what his words translated into. With Farrell's broken nose, he was talking through a wad of cotton up each nostril.

Henri-Mae turned promptly to Rosco. She pointed at Farrell as she spoke. "He's the one who behaved unprofessionally," she said calmly. "He asked me to take him to the abandoned barn on Route 55—"

"The old Miller's place, yes, I know," Rosco said.

"And when we got there, he assaulted me in the barn. I'm not going to label his exact intentions at this time, but he grabbed me and threw me up against the wall. That's now I got these nail gouges and my shirt got ripped." She promptly let go of her collar, letting it fall open in front of God and everybody.

Rosco let out a squeak of embarrassment, but Hogg continued to stare at her, not ogling her but instead eying the actual damage. Enos as well kept his cool, although blushed a little and averted his eyes.

"I head-butted him," she said, pointing to the large red spot that was as bright at a stop sign by now just above the bridge of her nose. "That's how he got a broken nose. Then I headed for my bike but it didn't start, and he grabbed me and dragged me off it. I kicked him in the knee and managed to get some distance between us when the Dukes came around the corner and picked me up."

As if reluctant, Hogg turned to the Duke clan. "That true? You saw it?"

"We saw her kick him in the knee," Luke spoke up.

"I watched him chase her from the barn," Bo said.

"Yeah, he saw it first and told us to pull over," Luke agreed.

Farrell snorted and stepped up. "Oh, come on, you're not going to fall for her antics again, are you?" he said, standing beside Bo. "After what she did to you?"

**Balladeer: That boy better watch his step or he's gonna get roughed up even more tonight.**

"Mister, whatever history you're referring to between me and Henri-Mae, it ain't none of your business," Bo growled.

"Sure it is," Farrell said, and then turned to Hogg. "Your Lady Deputy there acted all promiscuous with me when we were in that barn, and the second I acted on it she freaked out. I was defending myself when she head-butted me."

"Then why'd you chase her out of the barn?" Luke asked, his voice tight.

"Like you've never lost your temper when a woman leads you on and then turns on you?" Farrell asked. "I was afraid she was going to call in to the Sheriff's office and try to say I'd raped her – which is _exactly_ what she's doing now." He turned on Henri-Mae, righteous indignation oozing from him as he pointed at her. "You, Miss Tease, are trying to get me in trouble, just like your ex-boyfriend Bo Duke!"

Inadvertently, all eyes went to Henri-Mae. She stiffed like a corpse, horror washing over her features. Worst of it was the flush to her cheeks, the realization that she wasn't being believed, that this bastard had taken advantage of her and was going to get away with it.

She seethed at him, speechless.

Boss Hogg cleared his throat. "All right," he said, calm and nearly soothing to the sensitive situation.

**Balladeer: You know, every now and again Boss reminds me of how he got himself the job of City Commissioner that him a Boss in the first place. **

"Agent Farrell, I'll cover any medical expenses, go and see Doc Higgins. Henri-Mae, I want to speak to you privately in my office. Rosco, go ahead and put those papers away."

That seemed to make her snap. "Boss, what--?" she started, her voice elevated to a nearly screechy state.

"Nobody is pressing any charges," Hogg said. "It's your word against his."

**Balladeer: I spoke too soon.**

Even she couldn't believe the next words that came out of her mouth. "But the Dukes saw it!"

Farrell chuckled nastily. "Please, Henri-Mae. After the job you pulled on Bo Duke, do you think even _they _believe you? What they saw was me trying to defend myself. This is what happens when you cry wolf one to many times -- or in your case, cry rape."

Bo saw it. Henri-Mae's fist had bunched, and she was cocking back her arm. He was going to reach forward, to stop her, but Boss' voice thundered over her, freezing her.

"Henri-_Mae_! My office, _now_!"

She turned and stormed over to his office, and Bo saw those first tears of pure rage begin to slide down her cheeks as she disappeared.

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"I can't believe you don't believe me," Henri-Mae said, sitting on the couch, hands pressed against her cheeks. She was doing everything she could to keep her tears from streaming and it wasn't working. Boss looked down at her, a bit coldly.

"Henri-Mae, you should know better," he said. "Of all people, you know no one's going to believe you."

She glared up at him. "Not even you? All the times you've lied, and how mad you get when you're telling the truth and no one believes you? You _of all people_ should—"

"I, _of all people_," Boss said, emphasizing his words in his strange Southern drawl, "know a shuck and jive when I see it."

This froze her. "What…you mean you really think…I'm lying?"

"Don't see any other way around it," Boss said with a shrug. "Come on, girlie, you know that's your angle. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me."

Slowly, Henri-Mae stood. She stared at him like a wounded puppy. She simply couldn't believe this. She wished, for a half-second, that Rosco had pulled her aside instead – he would never have belittled her like this.

Boss gave her a stern look, undaunted by her display of outrage. "Now," he said, "the reason I called you in here was for the sake of not embarrassing you in front of the Dukes, but I'm only going to say this nicely once. Drop it." His tone booked no argument. "Understand?"

She nodded, numb. Then she slowly crossed the room and went out the back door.

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There was no way she could set foot in the main office, not and see Danny's gloating face, see the pity in Bo's eyes, or worse, the righteousness there, of knowing she'd gotten a taste of her own medicine.

The shame was too much to bear. Like a whipped pup, she crawled back to the boarding house to lick her wounds and indulge in a good bout of self-pity. She was into it for a good hour or so when there was a knock at the door.

She didn't ask who it was. She had locked the door, even pulled the chain to keep anyone from getting in with the master key.

"Henri-Mae?" came the voice of Gabrielle Stone. "I know you're in there. I can hear you breathing."

The woman pressed her face deeper into her pillow. She had taken off her clothes and promptly scaled herself with a very hot shower, possibly using up all the building had to offer. Wrapped in a pale blue robe, her skin seemed even more lobster red.

"Come on, Henri-Mae, I'm not the enemy," Gabrielle pleaded. "Please let me in?"

"Why?" Henri-Mae asked, then disbelieved that she'd even spoken.

"Because I believe you. Come on, open the door."

With a heavy sigh, Henri-Mae slowly pulled herself to her feet. She pulled back the chain and undid the lock, but she didn't pull the door open. Instead she went back to her fetal position on her bed.

Gabrielle came in and closed and locked the door behind her. She was dressed in street clothes, the suit gone and replaced by a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that read, "Warning: Has an attitude and knows how to use it." "How are you?" she asked.

Henri-Mae just looked at her.

Gabrielle cocked her head to one side and then perched herself on the room's only chair, by the single writing desk. "Look, if it's any consolation, I went to Boss Hogg and told him that Agent Farrell is prone to this kind of behavior, and that more than likely you were telling the truth."

"He didn't believe you," Henri-Mae said, flatly, "because you didn't see it."

"Yeah, that's what he said. He said you can't judge a man by his reputation. I said_ then how does that explain your attitude toward the Dukes?_ He flustered a bit and then ushered me out."

In spite of herself, Henri-Mae cracked a grin. "Sounds like Boss," she said.

Gabrielle nodded. "Look, something tells me that this isn't like you, to take a smear like this lying down."

Henri-Mae chuckled. "Normally, you're right. But I can't skip town this time because my bike is in the shop."

"About that," Gabrielle said. "I was at Cooter's Garage. That's where I heard the story. It was the Duke boys that told me your side of things, by the way."

Henri-Mae didn't reply.

Gabrielle went on. "Cooter says your bike is fine. He doesn't understand why it wasn't running before. Which is what tipped me off."

"Tipped you off to what?" Henri-Mae asked, interested in spite of herself.

"Look," Gabrielle said slowly, standing up and entwining her fingers together, a touch nervously. "I'm going to come clean with you, okay? I'm going to tell you what Farrell and I are really doing here in Hazzard. Are you willing to listen? Do you want to get some payback for what Farrell did to you?" She leaned in a little closer. "What he _would _have done to you if the Duke boys hadn't come along?"

The other looked at her, unsure. "You're saying you believe me?"

"I'm saying that he did something to your bike so it wouldn't start," Gabrielle said, her tone grim. "Don't ask me how I know, but I do. Took off a distributor cap or something, I don't know, do bikes have distributor caps?"

Henri-Mae just looked at her.

"Regardless," Gabrielle went on, "if the Duke boys hadn't come along when they did, you might have really gotten hurt. Worse than now, and he wouldn't have been any sorrier for it then, either. Would have made up a worse story, believe me. Trust me, that boy needs to be put in his place."

Henri-Mae sat up. "You're going to help me get even against your own partner?"

"Farrell isn't my partner," Gabrielle said, pulling the chair closer to the bed and speaking in more hushed tones. "I was assigned to him temporarily, because we think he's got some very shady dealings going on. Normally I work with another man, but for this job I had to go it alone, gain Farrell's trust."

"That man trusts people?" Henri-Mae snorted.

"Nope," Gabrielle said. "Nearly every other sentence he's spoken to me has been a lie. I'm very good at detecting lies – I'm often called the Human Lie Detector." She paused, flipping a random curl back over her shoulder. "I brought him here because of Boss Hogg's reputation for corruption. I figured you put two magnets together, they're sure to attract. And I've been attempting to overturn every rock I can around here. First I went to the Duke boys and played off this big story about how I was investigating Boss Hogg. I even asked them about you – mentioned your criminal record." She shrugged at Henri-Mae's sudden scowl. "Hey, I was playing all the bases, what can I say? I wasn't sure if Farrell was going to go for Hogg or for you, but either way I wanted those boys' eyes open."

"So why are you telling me this?" Henri-Mae asked, her voice bitter. "Sounds to me like you're just wanting to use me like a pawn. Like all of this is some kind of game."

"This isn't a game, Henri-Mae, it's an operation. And I'm telling you because you are the one who has a reason now to get back at Danny Farrell," Gabrielle said simply. "I figured you for a person who couldn't resist a chance for some payback. You can call that using you, sure, but I'm wiling to pay for your services."

Henri-Mae's expression collapsed into a frown of puzzlement. "Excuse me?"

"You did a lot of damage to Danny boy, and that's good," Gabrielle said, "but it was inefficient. And I'll bet you hurt your head like hell when you butted him." Her eyes drifted up to the bruise that was forming. "Am I right?"

Reluctantly, Henri-Mae nodded.

"And the secret is to hurt them, and not let it show. You've got a lot of potential…I'd like to teach you a few things."

"You mean hand to hand?" Henri-Mae asked.

"I've got multiple belts in various disciplines," Gabrielle said, not a touch of haughtiness in her voice. Just matter of fact. "I'll teach you whatever you want to know."

Henri-Mae considered. "Well, it beats sulking around here," she said.

"I thought it might," Gabrielle said with a wink.

Henri-Mae considered it. The woman had balls, to come clean with her like this. "All right," she said. "What have I got to lose?"


	8. She's As Mean As A Man

Disclaimer: You've seen the T.V. series, now read the not-for-profit fanfic. No profit, no sue.

A/N: Wow, three whole reviews! I couldn't believe it! Anyway, hoping that this next chapter keeps y'all happy.

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**Balladeer: As usual, Luke was thinking, and Bo was fuming. Or some kind of cross between fuming, and sulking, and feeling guilty. Henri-Mae had Bo so messed up it was a wonder he remembered to brush his hair and comb his teeth**.

They sat around the kitchen table, the collective of them, Daisy cooking dinner, Jesse at the head between Bo and Luke. Luke looked thoughtful while Bo couldn't keep himself still.

"Look, I want to go find Henri-Mae, make sure she's all right," Bo finally said, standing up. Jesse reached out and grasped his wrist.

"You'll do no such thing," the patriarch said firmly, sitting his nephew right back down. "The last thing in the world this situation needs right now is more between the two of you."

"This is too far, even for Boss," Luke said. "Anybody looking at Henri-Mae could see she was telling the truth. The way she came running out of that barn…"

"While I might be inclined to agree," Jesse said, his hand still on Bo's wrist, "we can't forget the trouble Deputy Locke has caused this family previously. All because of her grudge."

"Now hang on—" Bo started.

"Not just against you, Bo," Jesse assured him. "Henri-Mae ain't fond of any one of us. She blames me for her father, whether she's justified to do it or not. Sometimes _I_ even blame me for her father. But that's beside the point." He shook his white head. "Now I've known J.D. Hogg through thick and thin, and even he's got his limits. Rough-housing ladies is one of them. He had a reason for taking Agent Farrell's side in this, and I don't think it has anything to do with you, Bo."

This slightly mollified the youngest Duke, but not much.

"Think Farrell might have something over him?" Luke asked.

"Sounds like it," Jesse agreed. "Only thing I can think of that might make him back down. Either that, or he's sucked Farrell into one of his schemes and now he needs him pretty badly. Greed is pretty overpowering when it comes to J.D.'s conscience."

"I didn't know he had one," Daisy scoffed.

"You think those Feds are corrupt?" Bo asked.

"Farrell, definitely," Luke said. "What other kind of scum forces himself on a lady? If his side of the story was true, she wouldn't have had a mark on her. I don't care what a girl does to you, you don't hit back."

Daisy chuckled. "Although who can really blame him in Henri-Mae's case? She's as mean as a man."

Bo shot her a look, but was ignored.

"Now Daisy," Jesse said, smoothing the ruffled feathers, "putting Deputy Locke's character aside, she's still a lady…of sorts. And if Farrell is mean enough to fight back then he's mean enough to have started things in the first place."

"What I can't figure is Gabrielle's place in all of this," Luke remarked. "Is she in on all of this too?"

"Don't think so," Bo said, "and don't think it's just me sticking up for a pretty girl," he added with a pointed finger. "She came into that garage fit to strangle Farrell."

"Yeah, but where was she when all of this was going on?" Luke pointed out. "I mean, she gets on the radio to ask about Agent Farrell, and then disappears. She comes into the garage, long after the drama is over, I might add, and then disappears again. She's like some…phantom. I can't figure it out."

"I'm sure you will," Jesse said. "In the meantime, maybe you two should try doing what Agent Stone wanted you to do in the first place?"

"What's that?" Bo asked.

"Figure out what scheme Boss has going on this week," Luke supplied. "Maybe that'll untangle some of the mystery."

"So how do we do that?" Bo asked.

"Maybe we should start at the scene of the crime," Luke said. "Back to that barn Henri-Mae came running out of earlier today. Farrell took here there for a reason…maybe it was more than just to get fresh."

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**Balladeer: It wasn't like Henri-Mae was unaware that Boss liked to do illegal business dealings on the side. She always turned a blind eye for several reasons – first of all, he was her boss, and she wanted to keep her job. Second, whenever Boss schemed, it gave her plenty of opportunities to cause trouble for the Dukes. But third, which was probably the most poignant; none of Boss' schemes were really dangerous. It all involved making money, scamming rich people, and ripping off insurance companies. Even counterfeiting money on the odd occasion, which was becoming less and less nowadays since the government was making it nearly impossible to counterfeit its new-fangled bills. **

"He usually uses an old barn, one of his properties he's foreclosed on," Henri-Mae said from the shotgun seat. Gabrielle had borrowed a car from Cooter, and they were roaming the backroads of Hazzard, discreetly. "I guess I should have seen it, Farrell investigating all these old barns."

"Looking for a new place to set up shop," Gabrielle agreed. "Although I think that Hogg may have bitten off more than he can chew this time. Tell me, are there any armored cars coming through Hazzard any time in the next few days?"

Henri-Mae sighed. The more she learned, the more foolish she felt. _Why hadn't she seen this coming?_ "There's usually one, every month or so. But this month they're bringing in a cool ten million. There's a land developer interested in Hazzard and Boss was talking about tricking him into buying the swamp."

"More like Boss was wanting to lure the guy's money here and then steal it right out from under his nose," Gabrielle said.

"Still, ten million is excessive, even for Hazzard," Henri-Mae said. "There's going to be so many guards around it, Boss won't be able to get near it, no matter what hick help he hires."

Gabrielle looked at her. In the shadowy light, her expression was almost diabolical. "Except he's not hiring _hick_ help," she said. "He's going to get Farrell to do his dirty work."

"You mean—"

"He _is_ F.B.I. Cool, calm and in control. He even has a reputation for being able to pull off tricky transfers without even stirring the trees. Problem is, going over the books, the higher-ups have figured out he's been somehow siphoning bits away here and there. How, we have no idea. So I thought I'd lure him out here, see if he would do it in the open."

"It seems to me that Agent Farrell's weakness is going to be sadly underestimating us 'country bumpkins,'" Henri-Mae said, an edge in her voice. "Do you have any idea what his plan is?"

"He's good, I'll give him that," Gabrielle murmured. "I haven't heard one peep."

"Great," Henri-Mae said. "So what do we do?"

"We find whatever barn Danny picked for the final hideout," Gabrielle said. "He's going to have some kind of security system there, for hiding the money. Ten million dollars isn't going to be safe just lying out in the middle of nowhere, even hidden in an abandoned building. He's going to have taken some extra security measures."

Henri-Mae was silent for a moment, and then said carefully, "You know, if there's anyone that knows these hills inside and out, it's the Duke boys. Plus, they've got a special talent for stumbling onto Hogg's schemes. Maybe we should…" she hesitated. It sounded so absurd she couldn't believe she was saying it.

"Don't worry about that," Gabrielle said before she could finish. "I stirred up enough of that hornet's nest to have them out and about without us needing to go ask."

"Yeah, but the boys don't even _know_ about the ten million dollar transfer," Henri-Mae said.

"Henna, after that show in the Sheriff's office, their dander is up so high it'll be a wonder if we find the barn before they do."

Henri-Mae stared at her for a moment. "A show?" she said, her voice hollow. "Is that what you think it was?"

"Not from your point of view, no," Gabrielle soothed. "Sorry."

"Fat lot either one of them care about me," Henri-Mae muttered. "Bo probably thinks I got what was coming to me."

Gabrielle didn't answer.

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"I still don't get what some slick city Federal Agent needs with some abandoned barn in the middle of the country," Bo said as they perused the area, flashlights in hand.

"Maybe the question isn't what Farrell wants with one," Luke said. "Maybe it's what Boss Hogg wants with one. And what does Boss Hogg usually do with the abandoned barns of the properties he's foreclosed on?"

"Turns them into counterfeit factories," Bo listed. "Hides stolen money, sets up mail scams, and let's put aside all the ways he has of transporting moonshine."

Luke was silent for a long moment. "So let's be hypothetical for a moment," he mused. "Boss Hogg and Federal Agent Danny Farrell are on some big scheme together. But the question begs, why would Hogg need a Fed, and why would a Fed be interested in something Hogg could offer? It would have to be pretty big to get those two in bed together."

Bo snorted. "Wouldn't that be a sight?"

"Gross," Luke smirked. "Maybe we're sniffing around the wrong place," he said. "Maybe what we really need to do is go talk to Enos."

"Why Enos?" Bo asked.

"Because Enos usually knows when the armored car is coming through Hazzard," Luke said.

"Another armored car heist?" Bo sighed. "Aren't those getting a little old?"

"You'd think," Luke said. "Unless it's something very, very big. Let's go find out."

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"I can't talk about it," Enos said, having been dragged in to cover for Henri-Mae.

"Come on, Enos," Bo tried, following Enos across the room to his desk, which he leaned over, attempting to look pleading. "People's lives may depend on it!"

Luke shot him a look. Enos practically glared at him. "I don't know how you can make jokes," the deputy said. "Not after all that's happened here this evening."

"That's exactly why we want to know, Enos," Luke said. "Things just don't add up. All of this is part of another one of Boss's scams, and—"

Enos practically shot out of his chair. "I know you boys and Boss have a bad history," he said, his voice unusually hard, "but to suggest that he would have set up Henri-Mae—"

"Come on, Enos," Bo said, "we all know Boss didn't let her press charges against that Fed because he's protecting him, and why would he do that unless he needed him? Boss never sticks his neck out for anyone."

"And we're not saying Henri-Mae got set up on purpose," Luke amended, "but that maybe she got caught in the middle. You think she was lying?"

Enos looked at Bo. He looked distinctly guilty. "I…I don't know."

"Well," Bo said, his voice more confident than he realized, "I do, and she wasn't lying. We saw what happened and there's no way she was faking anything." He leaned in a bit, for the kill. "And I would know."

Enos watched him, thoughtful. "Well, if you'd say that Bo, then I guess I gotta believe you. So what was it you came here for again?"

"If Boss is up to something, it has to be big, for him to get a Fed involved," Luke said. "We wanted to know what's coming through Hazzard, in terms of money."

Enos looked around, especially toward Boss' office.

"They in there?" Luke asked.

"No, Boss went home and Rosco…well, I don't know where he is, but you can never be too careful."

"So what is it, Enos?" Bo asked. "What's going on?"

He still hesitated, but finally, he said, "You remember Boss talking about some new money coming into Hazzard?"

"Trying to sell the swamp again, was more like it," Luke remarked. "What about it?"

"Well, the land developers wanted to have a lot of cash available," Enos said. "They requested that a deposit of ten million dollars in cash be made to the bank."

"Ten…" Bo started.

"Million?" Luke gasped.

"Dollars," Enos confirmed. "Biggest armored car shipment ever to come into Hazzard."

"But why?" Bo breathed. "Why so much…and all in cash?"

"I think it's because these guys have their sights set on more than just Hazzard," Enos said.

Luke shook his head. "There is no way on earth that any land developer needs that much cash…unless it's all a cover."

"You mean laundering?" Enos suggested.

Both Dukes looked at him.

"Looks like you learned a thing or two in L.A.," Luke mused.

"So what do we do?" Bo asked.

"Near as I can think," Luke said, "we need to watch the armored car." He looked to Enos. "You're the only one who can help us with that mess, Enos."

Enos scratched his head. "Early tomorrow morning," he said. "Very early, under the radar, as they said in L.A."

"How early?"

"Sometime between six and seven. Before business hours, possibly earlier. If you boys are right, though, we gotta find the barn they're fixing to hide the money in."

"That doesn't give us a lot of time," Bo said. "You know how many abandoned barns there are in Hazzard? How are we going to find the one Farrell is using?"

Enos looked thoughtful. "There was one," he said, "past Route 11. The old Franklin place?"

"Before it was the McHalls place, and then Boss foreclosed on them," Luke muttered.

"Yeah," Enos said demurely. "Well, I've been with Agent Farrell the most when he's been investigating these empty places. That one really seemed to take his interest, we went a couple of times, but then he seemed to lose interest."

"Set up camp and wanted to keep it hidden?" Luke guessed.

"Sounds like it's the best place to start," Bo said. "Come on, we can't sit around here all night."


	9. Never Underestimate City Folk

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, the usual.

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"So are we going to sit here all night?" Henri-Mae asked, and the tired tone of her voice made it sound much less snappish than it might have.

From the driver's seat, Gabrielle stirred slightly. "No," she said after a thoughtful pause. "I just wanted to be sure."

"Sure?" Henri-Mae resisted a yawn. The emotional ride of the day had left her much more drained than she anticipated, and her eyes felt ready to slide shut of their own will. So the fact that she hadn't seen a single thing – well, it was possible she just hadn't been paying much attention.

"Yeah," Gabrielle said, turning and smiling at her. She popped open the door. "Let's go. Wakey wakey, little deputy. Time for some payback."

They headed for the woods.

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"Looks quiet enough," Luke murmured from the passenger's seat. Since speed was of the essence, Bo had driven, as he had a good deal more eagerness to get to the barn as fast as possible. Luke would never say it, but when it came to handling the General Lee, few could drive like Bo. Sometimes, not even him.

"Yeah…wait, what's that?" Bo pointed, and there was the faintest golden glow coming from the very top window, which had been fractured and cracked with neglect and age. The dust film on it was so thick it was impossible to see through, and the untrained eye might have mistaken the light for a reflection of the full moon, which had just risen to its peak position in the sky.

"Enos," Luke said on the CB, "do you see it?"

"Sure enough, Luke," came Enos' voice, considerably hushed over the radio line. "I'm moving in—"

"No, wait," Luke said. "Let Bo and I move in. You watch, make sure nobody comes around and sneaks up on us, or tries to get out."

"Will do," the deputy said.

"Someday that boy's gonna get tired of taking orders from us," Bo said.

"Yeah, well, when that day comes, I hope I know it," Luke replied. "I think we should split up. You take the east end, I'll take the west."

Bo reached up for the frame of the car to pull himself out. "All right, cousin. Whistle if you find anything."

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"Split up," Gabrielle said from the edge of the grove of trees on the north side of the barn. "I'll look for Farrell, you see how many others there are. But don't engage, understand?"

Henri-Mae bridled a bit. Sure, Gabrielle gave off the kind of easy air that she could get to like, but now she was in some kind of military mode, and the experience and know-how just rolled off her in waves. There was a thin edge in her voice that could easy have become arrogance. But still, any port in the storm. Aloud, all she said was, "You want me to go around back?"

"Yeah," Gabrielle said. Then her eyes twinkled a bit in the bright moonlight, and she gave Henri-Mae a rather mysterious little half-smile. "Don't worry, Hen," she said, "when this is over, I'll stop bossing and start teaching. Let's move."

Henri-Mae started a bit. It almost felt for a moment like Gabrielle had read her mind…_but that's impossible. People don't read minds_. She slipped through the trees toward the back of the barn.

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**Balladeer: Now the Duke boys had been hunting since he was old enough to walk. True, Uncle Jesse hadn't allowed Bo a gun until he was big enough to shoot it without falling over, but Bo had grown like a weed, so he'd been pretty young when the woods became his second home. Plus years of camping had taught him how exactly to respect the forest around him. So for him, the potential search of the barn seemed as easy as a walk in the park with a pretty girl on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Of course, he hadn't really expected to actually see a pretty girl. And if he had, it certainly wouldn't have been the very girl he'd brought into these same woods almost eight or nine years ago, and shared one of the most intimate experiences of his life—but I digress.**

Henri-Mae had her back to him, and she was squatting low in the bushes. It was amateur, but Bo figured that given enough time and the proper teaching, she'd remember her country roots. And she had enough sense to keep her head low enough so as not to let her hair get caught on any of the lights coming from the barn.

The back doors of the place were cracked open, and there was a flickering of light coming from inside. It seemed to him like firelight, but inside a barn? It was unwise and unsafe, at best, downright stupid and deadly at worst.

There was a shifting and the door swung open. Henri-Mae ducked farther down, and pushed back, going for the thicker cover of the trees behind her.

Two men came out. In the night it was impossible to make out details, but one of them had the dark and lithe frame of one Agent Farrell, mostly distinguishable by the white bandage which set his broken nose. Bo resisted a smug chuckle, wanting to hear what they were saying. Farrell was talking in a very low voice, one that didn't carry. The man was a professional, all right. The only words Bo could make out were "truck," and "guns," and only those because of the absolute silence all around them.

Then Bo realized that Henri-Mae was backing up farther and farther. She was coming right for him. She was being quiet enough, save for the occasional rustle of a leaf, but at her trajectory she was going to bump into him, and God knew what might happen then.

Her foot slipped. It made a loud hissing noise, and Farrell stopped. Henri-Mae froze, watching. Farrell looked around, and then went back inside the barn.

Realizing he had a very small window, Bo reached forward, as it was only a few feet separating them now, and clamped one hand over Henri-Mae's mouth as firmly as his other one went around her waist. Being particularly long limbed and as strong as an ox, as Uncle Jesse had often told him, had its benefits. Henri-Mae's scream was smothered and she was in his grip hidden behind a thick fence of brush faster than Bo could have said, "Hazzard Derby."

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Someone grabbed her. Such things with her weren't unprecedented, but there was something about that hand over her mouth, a smell to the body behind her that gave off such intense familiarity that it froze her reaction time, and aside from the knee-jerk scream that came from her throat, she offered no resistance as she was dragged back into darkness.

The person who had her was damn strong, but she could feel a violent temperament a mile away, and he gave off none. Plus, there was that scent…sweet and musky at the same time, spice and grass and engine grease---

"It's Bo," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Don't scream." His hand trembled as he pulled it away, as if ready to clamp back down. Only then did her heart remember to start beating, and beat it did, as if it were a huge drum in a very loud and untrained marching band.

"You scared the piss out of me," she said, her voice equally low, but anger making it shake. She hadn't realized how badly he'd frightened her until she was sure it was him. "You want to let go?"

He was wrapped tightly around her, and it was damn unnerving, the easy comfort of it. Blushing a bit, visible even in the moonlight, he unwound from around her so she could breathe as well. "You've been eating your Wheaties," she said, sitting up.

Bo just looked at her. Then, after careful consideration, he said, "So what brings you out here?"

"Well, I'd imagine the same thing as you," she said, looking back toward the barn. "For entirely different motives, of course."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I'm obviously here on police business, whereas you're trespassing—"

"I think," Bo said, feeling the urge to fight with her rise up easily, "that it's more like I'm here as a concerned citizen, and you just want some payback for that bastard humiliating you like—"

Her head swung around and she pinned him with a sharp look. "All right," she said, her voice more of a hiss. "You want to fight or do you want to save the day? I figure you already know about the whole armored car thing?"

"You know about that too?"

"Why else would a bunch of honkeys be crawling around in the woods in the dead of night?" she sighed. "I take it Luke is around here somewhere?"

"Yeah," Bo said, unsure what to make of her attitude now. It was almost like the real Henri-Mae that he'd known years ago. "Who are you here with?"

"Me? Well, my date is the very same lady agent you and Luke have been panting over this last week," she said, shifting her weight off her haunches, feeling the muscles starting to burn. Plus her knee was acting up from that spill she'd taken on the racquetball court, damn scrape had left a pretty big bruise—

"I haven't been panting after her," Bo said.

"Yeah, right," Henri-Mae said, her teasing tone almost affable. "And moonshine is distilled from moonbeams. Anyway, she told me to see if I could count how many men there are around here, but so far all I saw was Farrell and some other guy."

"I thought that was Farrell," Bo said. "You mean you haven't run into any guards or anything?"

"Nope," she replied, frowning, "which is just plain sloppy."

"No," came a voice, "really sloppy would be you finding the guards before they found you."

Henri-Mae looked over her shoulder to see a shotgun aimed in her face. A look at Bo revealed that another muzzle had come from the thick and was hovering over his shoulder, which he'd seen. His hands were already in the air.

**Balladeer: Just goes to show you should never underestimate city folk.**

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Inside, the barn was dimly lit, and it turned out that the flickering light was from a television that seemed to be stuck on an image of a fireplace. It was by far one of the most ridiculous things Bo had ever seen.

"Cozy, isn't it?" Farrell said from where he sat against a far wall on an old stack of hay that had been covered by a thick piece of plastic. "In other circumstances, it would almost be romantic."

"Why not turn on the damn lights?" Henri-Mae said, as they stood in the middle of the wide floor. The door had been pulled shut behind them, and everyone was still talking in low voices. "Or are you too vain to let us all see your broken schnozz?"

"I'm sacrificing my vanity for the sake of keeping your friends from knowing what we're doing," Farrell replied, one eyebrow cocking. He stood up, dusted off his coat and came over to her. "Oh, wait, I forgot, you don't have any friends."

Henri-Mae just gave him a sneer, rolled her eyes and shook her head. "So high school," she sighed.

"You, however," Farrell said, looking at Bo, even though he didn't move away from Henri-Mae, "seem to have a whole gallery of country rogues. Wherever you are, that cousin can't be hard to find. He must have had military training to say hidden in these woods---then again, sadly, you were brought down once again by this bitch here." He looked back down at Henri-Mae, taunting.

Bo bridled. "You shouldn't insult ladies," he ground out through gritted teeth.

"I'll remember that when I see one," Farrell chuckled. "You know, Bo, I guess I was wrong about you. I credited you with more brains. But it seems that you're led by your penis like all men."

"Sorry, I'm not you," Bo bit back.

Farrell laughed again, a bit louder and much nastier. "Whatever." He swung his arm around Henri-Mae's neck, yanking her closer to him. Her hands were still out, as the men with shotguns were still very close by and had them in point-blank range. Farrell would be lucky not to get brains on him, but he wouldn't be hurt if one of them did something stupid and those guns had to fire. She did, however, arch back her neck to get as much breath away from him as possible. Which wasn't much. "Nothing to feel too bad about, I guess. Damn pretty, isn't she?"

"You smoke too damn much," Henri-Mae muttered.

"Guess I just wasn't innocent enough for you," Farrell went on, this time to Henri-Mae. His eyes rolled to Bo. "But there's little to stop any of us now."

Both captives bridled. _What the hell was he getting at?_

Bo glared at him, but truth was his heart was pounding, fearing the worst. If they wanted to really hurt Henri-Mae, there would be little he could do to stop them without getting seriously hurt himself, if not killed.

"You so desperate to get your jollies on, you gotta force someone?" Henri-Mae said, her voice deliberately unaffected, her last defense in her vulnerable state. No fear, just like before.

One corner of Farrell's mouth curled into a grin. "Unfortunately, beautiful, I don't have the time to indulge you." His arm slid away from her neck, but his fingers lingered over her nape, sending unpleasant shivers down her spine. "Although it would be damn fun, wouldn't it?" He stepped away, and sauntered a bit closer to Bo. "Truth, though, I had credited you with more brains, country boy."

"You already said that," Bo pointed out.

Farrell just smiled unpleasantly. "Go ahead, change the subject. Avoid the fact that the girl who nearly ruined your reputation is the same girl you're risking your neck for right now. Because why else the hell are you here unless it's to defend her honor? Please, I saw your face in the Sheriff's office. How could you be so naïve to believe a word she ever says? And yet you do, like a lovesick puppy."

Bo wasn't sure if his cheeks were burning more with indignation or humiliation. Apparently Gabrielle wasn't the only Fed capable of reading people. His words were painful and struck home. "I guess I just don't like seeing girls get roughed up," he said, his voice uncharacteristically low.

Farrell shrugged one shoulder. "Ah, hell if I care. You want to spend your days defending a woman who clearly has it in for you, go ahead. Waste your life. But wonder always if it might have been any better to let her get what she had coming to her. Take her down a few notches…and maybe she'll even come crawling back to you." He winked, and sauntered away. "Tie them up, boys," he said, "and make damn sure there's no way they can wiggle out of here."


	10. Robin Hood Complex

Disclaimer: Same old, andhappy St. Paddy's Day!

**Balladeer: It had been a considerable amount of time since Bo had found himself unable to get free of his bonds. Usually, these city bums were in such a hurry to tie him and Luke up, they often used common rope, and tied them up back to back, so that getting free was just a matter of waiting for their captors to leave their sight. **

**Farrell was not so dumb.**

They were stretched out like Y's, in one corner of the bar, perpendicular to each other. Their hands were up and bound to the thickest beams in the wall by some kind of plastic stripping Bo only saw in the post office in Capitol City. The plastic strips were tight and just about cutting off the circulation in his wrist, bound together by a thicker piece of plastic. They were difficult to stretch and just left his skin raw and red. Their legs had been stretched out in front of them, their ankles crossed and then bound with the same plastic binding, to keep them from attempting to stand.

Henri-Mae seemed to be calming down. She had looked considerably shaken when Farrell had withdrawn his threat to do her bodily harm – neither would even let the word _rape_ form in their heads – and her cheeks had been flushed so dark Bo had worried she might be ready to have a fainting spell. But her breathing had returned to normal, and she was actually resting her head back against the wooden planks of the wall, that had long since been worn soft with age. She hadn't even struggled in her bonds, which Bo just found plain strange.

"You okay?" Bo asked.

"Fine," she said, her head tilted away from him. Her eyes were distant, as if she were thinking very hard of something else.

"Don't worry, we'll get out of this," he said, very softly.

"I'm not worried," she said, still in that same, dreamy voice.

After a moment, Bo snorted. "Oh, that's right, I should have known. Little Miss Henri-Mae went off to the big city and got herself a big-city attitude. Nothing bothers you, I forgot."

Her eyes cleared and she lifted her head. "If I told you what I was doing, you wouldn't believe me. You might even make fun of me. Although you seem to already be doing that," she added with some bite.

"What, you're offended?" he mocked. "I hurt the lady deputy's feelings?"

"Bo, you're such a child," she sighed, looking away.

That set him off. "You should talk," he said. "You're still holding onto grudges that happened when we were in high school!"

She fixed him with a very angry, sharp look, and Bo almost drew back, like a scolded puppy. But no, she of all people had _no right_ to criticize him for being immature. "You really want to do this now?" she asked in a low voice. "Why the heck are you mad at me, anyway? All I said was that I wasn't worried and you went and started yelling at me! What is your problem?"

Bo pulled back. True, he was being the more ornery of the two, and was nearly sure that it was Farrell's earlier comments about his feelings for Henri-Mae that had put him on the offensive. "All I'm saying," he said, his voice a bit more controlled now, "is that it's all right for you to do what you like, but I get punished over and over like a schoolboy."

"First of all," Henri-Mae said, her eyes flickering in and out, as if she were struggling to talk over some very intense thoughts, "you were the one who proposed to me, and then tried to break it off. You were the one I found in the barn with a cheerleader. So if you're going to make any kind of case that I don't have a right to _still_ be mad at you for that, you're wasting your time."

"Yeah, but can't a man change?" Bo asked, realizing that this was possibly the first time they'd ever talked about this openly. The fact that both of them were bound and unable to go anywhere just added to the irony. Or maybe it was poetic justice. He never could get any of those terms straight.

"Have you changed?" she asked, fixing him with a look.

"I ain't had a steady girlfriend since you left," Bo said.

"That doesn't mean anything," Henri-Mae said. "_Please_, I _see_ you. Everything in a skirt gets an extra long look. You make dates left and right. You can't commit – which is no real surprise to me."

"Well," Bo said, steeling his voice, "maybe the reason I date so many girls is because I can't for the love or life of me find anything close to what we had. Maybe I won't commit to a girl because I don't ever want to hurt anyone again like I hurt you. And maybe you should give me some credit for taking your side in all of this, when Farrell is right, that I, of ALL PEOPLE, shouldn't believe a damn word that comes out of your mouth!"

"Then why _do_ you?" she snapped at him, voice rising. "Why the hell didn't you just stay at home?"

"Because I don't like seeing anything bad happen to you!" he roared back.

She paused. "Please," she snorted. "You have this notion you're Robin Hood, out fighting the system. I have nothing to do with it—"

"I _believed_ you when you said Farrell attacked you," Bo cut her off. "Did anyone else?"

She paused. A long silence passed. "What do you want me to say, Bo?" she finally sighed, sounding exhausted.

"I want…" he paused. What _did_ he want? "I want a truce," he said. "I want you to stop holding this stupid grudge against me. I want you to stop hating me."

Her look was almost mocking, except for the hurt that lingered behind it. "Because, by all means," she said, her voice caustically bitter, "we can't have the local Hazzard hero Bo Duke being dogged down by his imperfections."

"No, Henri-Mae," Bo said, his voice nearly pleading. "I want you to forgive me because it kills me whenever I see someone I loved so much look at me like I'm worse than that creep Farrell."

She considered his words, caught by the tone of his voice. After another pause, she said, "Do I really look at you like that?"

"Sometimes," he said. "Well, not so much, but…" He looked away from her.

"I remind you of your guilt," she said.

"You remind me of what we lost," he corrected her. "I know it was my doing, and no matter what I do, I can't take it away. I don't want you to forgive me because it'll make me feel better. I want you to forgive me because I want _you_ to be able to be happy again."

"What makes you think I'm not happy?" she muttered.

"Ha!" Bo said, but it was venom-less and wasn't as unkind as it might have been.

She looked away for a long time. "I don't know, Bo," she said.

"Yeah, I get that," he said tiredly.

She gave him a look. There was uncertainty there, as if she were finally considered him seriously for once.

"Besides," he said with a last sigh, "I'm such a bastard, I'm really not worth all your attention."

This got her. A smile cracked her face, and she nearly chuckled. "You're right," she said simply.

"See? Even a blind pig can find a truffle now and again." He returned her almost-smile.

She sobered, but it lacked the hurt and bitterness of before. "So you want a truce," she said. "I don't how much of a truce I can offer, considering Boss might fire me if I stop harassing you Dukes."

"Oh, _that_ I can live with," Bo said. "The last thing I'd want is for you to lose your job."

Another thoughtful pause, and then she said, "You know…it wouldn't ever be the same. You and me…I mean, we couldn't ever get back together, no matter what kind of truce or peace or whatever we wind up having."

He didn't answer. Part of it was the fact that she'd said it so openly; the other was that he had never imagined hearing those words would hurt so damn much. The other part was a small tapping of the wall behind him, which he distinctly recognized as Morse Code.

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"So when is this happening?" Luke heard one of the men say.

"My sources say at about six-thirty," Farrell answered. "Be ready, like I told you."

"Doesn't it seem a little…rough?" another man asked. His voice was a bit older, more seasoned. "I mean, it's a smash and grab job. I thought Hogg brought you in on this because he wanted things to be more subtle."

"We're stealing ten million dollars," Farrell said. "That doesn't really get subtle. But don't worry, I've got things covered. The driver won't be giving us a hassle."

There was the low murmur of laughter. A while ago, Luke had watched as Bo and Henri-Mae had been tied up, but he'd been temporarily unable to help them. There were too many men and they looked meaner than any local thugs Boss might have used. He had long since learned in the military that the key to succeeding in any mission was to bide your time.

The other, rougher looking men went about their tasks, watching the road, guarding the prisoners. The older man and Farrell came into view, and Luke could heard their conversation, as he was currently close enough to touch one of them on the shoulder. Their voices were even softer than before, a considerable feat in the hushed woods.

"So tell me what's going to happen," the older man said.

"Barley, don't you trust me?" Farrell teased, sipping a thermos of coffee. "I set it up, everything. The two guards are both mine. Not of their own free will of course. Being a Fed does have its privileges. But if either one of them gives me a hard time they'll be rotting right alongside me in prison."

"Guess that works," Barley said, grinning. "Guess Boss was right about you then."

"Boss knows where the country dirt is," Farrell said. "Not the city dirt."

The two were chuckling meanly, the kind of self-satisfied, smug laughter that comes from men who are foolish enough to believe they're invincible. Luke managed to sneak his way to the back wall, watched the men who were slipping in and out of the shadows, and as if no more than a shadow himself, he dropped down into the brush.

Sliding against the rough wall, he moved along, tapping here and there, trying to locate Bo.

**Balladeer: Now if y'all don't remember, Luke served some time in the marines, and he learned Morse Code, which he turned around and taught to Bo, but it was a long time ago and both of them were rusty. There wasn't any time to tap messages when you were blasting over Hazzard roads at a hundred and fifty plus miles and hour. **

Then he heard something. It was muffled, but it had a pattern. He tapped again, the same message. Bo's name, over and over.

The message came back again, roughly. "Here."

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"What are you doing?" Henri-Mae asked, watching as Bo did some twisting with his knuckles to bounce them off the beam they were tied against. It wasn't the most comfortable-looking thing in the world. She was pretty sure the rough wood was giving him splinters, at the least.

"Answering," he muttered. His eyes focused on something past her and Henri-Mae looked around to see Farrell approaching.

"Thought I smelled something," Henri-Mae said, turning her nose in the air, looking down at Farrell, even though he towered above her.

Aptly, he ignored the insult. "You two comfy?" he asked, chin resting on his chest, rolling to one side as he eyed Henri-Mae. "Wouldn't want you to get all cramped up, considering you'll be spending the night here."

"And then what?" Henri-Mae asked. "You're not going to let us go, why don't you just shoot us and put us out of our misery?"

Farrell snorted a little laugh. "The guys said you to were arguing before. Lovers quarrels are such pains. Maybe I should put you both down – but I really don't want to get blood on the floor so soon."

Bo looked up, struggling to keep the fear from his face. Henri-Mae, however, was a rock. "What are you waiting for, then?" she said. "For us to beg for our lives?"

"Can't say that wouldn't be fun," Farrell said. "But no, I'm not." He just stared at her, then, and grew uncharacteristically silent.

"Then what?" she demanded. "Don't just stand there, you're not even trying to lord it over us. There's something else going on here and I want to know what."

"But if I told you, that would be telling," Farrell said softly, winking. "Nighty night." And he stepped away.

"What was that about?" Bo said when Farrell was out of earshot.

"Have not a clue," she said. "But I don't think they're going to kill us."

"That's a relief," Bo said skeptically.

"It's just a feeling," Henri-Mae said. "If they were going to kill us they would have already done it. For some reason Farrell thinks he needs us. I just haven't a clue for what."

"Pssst," came a whisper above them. Bo and Henri-Mae looked up and saw Luke hanging through an old window, high enough to be out of view but still in a risky place.

Bo shook his head at his cousin. Looking over, Luke saw how closely they were being guarded. With a frown, he fumbled at his waist for his pocketknife.

"Can you catch?" he mouthed. Bo flapped his hands uselessly. Luke reconsidered and re-pocketed the knife.

Henri-Mae tapped her heels against the floor, getting Luke's attention. "Find Gabrielle," she mouthed.

"Where?" Luke mouthed back.

"Outside," Henri-Mae shot back with a frown, as if Luke were an idiot. Luke was taken aback for a moment, and then vanished out the window.


	11. A Beautiful Waste

Disclaimer: Don't own the Dukes, etc. DOUBLE UPDATE, chapters 11 and 12. So be sure to review twice, Dawnie-7. :)

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She dozed. It was hard to stay awake – once the adrenaline wore off, exhaustion landed on her like a ton of lead bricks. She struggled under the weight, but her eyes would shut of their own accord, until she would find her chin hovering just above her chest and her neck muscles screaming in agony.

Henri-Mae looked up, trying to get the joints in her neck to crack back into place. The window was brighter than it was before – "the butt-crack of dawn," as her father had once called it.

Bo was looking at her, puzzled. "You fell asleep," he said.

**Balladeer: Always was a quick study, Bo. **

"Yeah, I noticed," she replied, shifting in her bonds as well as she could. "Where's Luke? Agent Stone? Why haven't we been rescued yet?"

"Don't know," Bo said, "but—" He was cut off by the approach of footsteps. Two of the men, both of them armed with guns, came over. Quickly, the plastic binding was snapped and they were pulled to their feet.

"Where are we going?" Henri-Mae asked, her muscles not in any shape to resist, but her attitude multiplied by her sleep-haze grumpiness.

"Shut up," the man said, dragging her along. His gun precluded any argument, and even Bo obeyed their orders, silent if sulking.

They were escorted to a car and unceremoniously shoved into the back seat. No one spoke to them, and there was no sign of Farrell.

The car bumped along Hazzard roads until it pulled behind a thick cluster of bushes. The light in the sky was getting steadily brighter, but it hadn't quite cracked the horizon when the armored truck came by.

It happened quickly. Henri-Mae and Bo couldn't see it but they heard gunshots. Long minutes passed, and there was a crackling on the radio. The driver picked it up.

"Bring the girl," came Farrell's voice. "Put the hayseed in the trunk."

Henri-Mae was roughly grabbed out of the backseat and dragged around the car. Two others came around and dragged Bo toward the open trunk, struggling all the way. He looked about ready to escape, too – Bo was as slippery as an eel and as ornery as a crocodile when it came to being outnumbered. But there was the click of a hammer being drawn back and Henri-Mae felt the hard barrel pressed against the back of her skull.

"Keep it up, redneck," the man said, "and her brains will be keeping you company in the trunk."

Immediately, Bo stopped struggling. He looked at Henri-Mae, and their eyes met.

"Don't worry about me, Bo," she said. "These cowards aren't man enough to shoot me."

"Don't push me, girlie," the gunman growled.

She turned her head, the barrel now snug against her temple. "Please," she snorted. "You guys went through all this trouble only to spill my brains out now? Farrell needs us for something, I don't know what it is, but I know you'll be in more shit than you can handle if you—"

"I'm going," Bo said, moving toward the trunk. Henri-Mae froze, turned her head toward him. He was half-way in the trunk, and his eye caught hers as the hood came down.

"Smarter than he looks," the gunman said, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the road.

**Balladeer: This can't be good. Least those boys coulda done was give Bo a screwdriver. He would've if the situation was reversed.**

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Bo wasn't sure how long it took for the trunk to come open, but when it did, Cooter stood there with Luke beside him. "Morning, sunshine," Cooter said as the sunlight streamed in, blinding Bo for a moment.

"What's going on?" Bo asked, stumbling out into the light. "Where did they take Henri-Mae?"

"We don't know," Luke said. "I got Enos and everyone else…even Boss Hogg and Rosco."

"I thought they were in on it!" Bo cried.

"Not how you think," Cooter said. "Rosco was particularly pissed that Henri-Mae got snatched, and I daresay I've never seen Hogg look so guilty."

Luke went on. "We set up a road block, but…it didn't work."

"Shoulda seen it," Cooter said. "Beautiful waste of a perfectly good truck."

"Sounds like I missed a lot," Bo said, taking the water Luke offered him.

"Not really," came a voice, and Bo turned and saw Gabrielle standing there, geared up to the nines in shining black paten leather with a helmet slung under her arm. She had a look on her face that was almost unreadable. Behind her, on a bike that would have made Henri-Mae drool, was a man dressed in a simple black suit, complete with white shirt and tie. A helmet also crowned his head, which seemed as golden as Bo's.

"That's Gabrielle's partner," Luke said by way of explanation. "Michael."

"Partner?" Bo echoed. "I thought Farrell…I'm completely lost."

Gabrielle smiled a thousand watt smile. "Well, I'm sure Luke will catch you up on the way. Get the General, boys…we're going to go have some _real_ fun."

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"A set up, all from minute one?" Bo said, sitting in the passenger's seat, as Luke worried he wasn't fit to drive.

"Agent Stone is the queen of shucking and jiving," Luke said, rueful admiration in his voice. "She had everyone strung along like birds on a wire, and everything fell into place. She was the one who got Boss in cahoots with Farrell, she set up the transfer of the ten million dollars, knowing that Farrell could strong-arm the right men to make stealing the money easy. Then she just stepped back and watched it all unravel."

"Even Henri-Mae getting kidnapped?"

"Yeah, that part is a bit of a monkey wrench in the whole thing," Luke said. "After I left you I tried to find Gabrielle but she wound up finding me. I wanted to bust the two of you out, but she insisted it would go easier if we just let Farrell carry out his plan and then follow along. We didn't think he'd take her, but he did. Insurance, I'm pretty sure, to keep all of us at bay."

Bo glowered out the window. "I'm worried it's much darker than all that," he said, his voice heavy.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Luke said. "Didn't want to worry you, though."

"So Boss is in on this too?" Bo said, trying to put it all together in his head.

"Heck yeah, although how Gabrielle managed that is a story I've yet to hear." Luke swerved through traffic, trying to keep up with the motorcycle flying ahead of them. The tail of Gabrielle's blond braid flapped in the wind, the only spot of color on the looming black shape.

"So let me see if I've got this straight," Bo said, feeling the grogginess clear with the adrenaline of anger seeping through him, "Gabrielle came here to set up her fake partner Farrell, got Boss in on it, dragged us into it, and finally let Henri-Mae in on it, and then her real partner, Michael, came in to help out with the clean-up. Although what exactly we're supposed to cleaning up, we're not sure?"

"Terrorists, boys," came a voice over the CB. It was Gabrielle's loud and clear, and the boys couldn't help but wonder how she'd been listening in the whole time. "All in a big war against terrorism. If I told you that Farrell wants to use that ten million to fund some very nasty homeland operations that might turn into another 9/11, you'd see why Boss so eagerly volunteered. He's a lot of things, but he's a patriot at heart."

"But why all the deception and double talk?" Bo asked.

There was an amused paused. "Coming from you, that's funny," she said. "But truth be told, I have orders I have to follow like any good soldier."

Luke shot Bo a look that clearly showed his incredulity that Gabrielle was anyone's foot soldier – she moved more like a general now, rallying all the troops she could.

"There it is," came her voice again, and there was static. Bo and Luke looked to see a freeway into Atlanta, thick with traffic. The semis especially cluttered the lanes, choking up exit ramps briefly before exploding onto the wider road where the traffic was thinner. "I know it ain't the dirt roads of Hazzard, boys," Gabrielle said, "but try and keep up."

With that, the motorcycle zipped out from in front of them and began ducking and weaving through cars as if it were a black hummingbird darting from flower to flower.

Luke gave a little sneer. "That boy's showing off," he said.

"Teach him a lesson," Bo replied. Luke obliged, but soon it became clear that the General, as fast and sleek as it was, wasn't cooperating lithely enough to slice its way between cars.

"Luke, are you even trying to catch up to them!" Bo yelped.

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Luke barked back, but before he knew it Bo was shoving at him.

**Balladeer: Nice to see in times of trouble, some things don't change.**

"Let me drive!" the younger cousin ordered, and Luke half-considered resisting, but if there was one thing that Bo could do better when he was mad, it was drive. So they swapped seats, swerving briefly for a moment, and the second Bo's hands were on the wheel, the tailpipe of Gabrielle and her partner's bike were in sight again.

"That semi," came a male voice, presumably that of her partner, Michael. "The one without any company markings."

"Which one?" Bo asked, searching through the white blurs. There were so _many_…

"The white one!" came the answer, as if it were obvious. Bo would have asked which white one, but before he could say anything, the motorcycle seemed to go faster than before. It skidded around and then pulled up directly in front of an off-white semi without any commercial markings – completely indistinguishable from any other semi, except by the smudged print around the cab.

"Hide a tree in a forest," Luke murmured.

"What the hell is that girl doing?" Bo gaped. Gabrielle had stood up on the back of the motorcycle, her hands on Michael's shoulders. Then she spun around, her foot up on the back bar of the rear seat, and she used the accelerated motion like a slingshot.

The driver of the semi spotted her. He attempted to swerve but the motion was too much for a big truck to take at that speed, and the wheel wobbled. Any more pressure and it would tip, and the driver knew it. All he could do was watch while Gabrielle did the incredible.

She leapt into the air, her legs curling under her, and Bo was briefly reminded of Henri-Mae's jump on the racquetball court. But this was different. She was like a living arrow, flying straight and true, whole body poised and tense, then curling with the effort to lift herself just a little higher, her feet clearing the cab, and her hands reached out and gripped the edge of the big trailer car. She flipped over, feet going into the air like an acrobat, until she landed on the roof of the trailer, hunched down like a black window spider, ready to attack.

"Holy shit," both boys said, unable to help themselves.

**Balladeer: Hate to say it, but I agree with them.**


	12. The Sweet Sounds Of Dixie

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah...

There was a thump on the roof.

Henri-Mae looked up from where she had settled herself against the inside wall. All around her, Farrell's men looked up, already tense, guns coming out.

It wasn't the most pleasant environment anyway, the inside of a trailer car. It smelled musty and thick, as there was little ventilation, if any. At first she hadn't believed that Farrell wanted her inside it.

"Why not just leave me behind?" she asked. "Lock me in the back of the truck, like you did Bo in the trunk." They had long since left that car behind, and had briefly used the armored car until the semi had arrived. The ten million dollars – like three giant stone blocks – had been transferred hastily, but the process still took forever. And the armored car – she had never seen one so huge. Apparently ten million dollars took up a lot of space. She was sure the back would have enough air to last her until help arrived.

Farrell smiled at her, and tapped his nose. "You owe me," he said.

"I'll break the rest of your face if you try anything on me again," she warned. "I'm probably more trouble than I'm worth."

Farrell laughed. "Who said _I'd _be doing anything?" he remarked cryptically, sending an unpleasant shudder into her stomach. What exactly he meant, she had no clue, but she was sure it was thoroughly reprehensible.

There were metal folding chairs, and several electric lanterns with large batteries placed in all corners. The large, rectangular space was not meant for human comfort, and it swayed and rocked them all uncomfortably. She'd eventually gone criss-cross on the floor, just to keep her from getting carsick.

But now, there was a heavy knot of tension in her stomach. The driver had sharply informed Farrell not thirty seconds ago that there was a motorcycle in front of them, and that one of the passengers was getting ready to jump onto the semi. He's sounded panicked, and for a moment the sway of the truck had been nearly terrifying.

"Don't tip us over, you idiot!" Farrell screeched, and the swaying stopped, but then came the thump.

"It's a girl!" the driver said over the radio.

Farrell's lip twisted. "Gabrielle," he sighed. "Shoot her."

"What?" came one voice, but the older man, Barley, who was clearly Farrell's right hand man, had already cocked a shotgun and fired it straight up into the ceiling.

Henri-Mae jumped. The lining of the trailer car fluttered down on them, letting in sunbeams with thick dust dancing in them.

"Shoot her!" Farrell said, more sharply, and suddenly all the guns were going off, like firecrackers in July. Henri-Mae put both arms over her head, but she was still covered with thick white stuff—

And then, something came through the roof.

It was to be expected. They put so many holes in the ceiling, nothing could have stayed on that surface. But what landed not two feet from her, as if she'd planned it, was not what Henri-Mae had expected.

"Gabrielle!"

**Balladeer: Hope that girl is bulletproof.**

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Bo and Luke watched in frozen horror as Gabrielle danced on the top of the trailer cab, the ceiling coming up from under her boots. The cracking sounds clearly belayed the gunshots, but she dodged each and every bullet, as if it were all rehearsed for her. She knew exactly where to step, until finally, with little roof left under her feet, she gripped the edge of the truck, balanced herself perfectly on her hands for a brief second, and then torpedoed her body straight into the truck body.

"Go around the rear!" came Michael's voice, to which they were not quite accustomed, but was startlingly clear given the circumstances. "She knows what she's doing, just go around the rear!"

Bo hastened to obey, wondering even though his panicked haze why he was doing so, so blindly. Maybe it was the knowledge that Henri-Mae was inside that truck, and he didn't know what was going on, and that the possibility of finding out seemed most likely to happen if he was right up the truck's rear end.

However, it was just at the moment that he had finally gotten the General maneuvered behind the semi, that the back of the truck seemed to explode.

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Gabrielle reached over and grabbed her arm. The grip was such that Henri-Mae was yanked to her feet, but quickly whisked back out of the way as the bullets came flying at them. How they dodged out of the way, she would never know – the world became a shadowy blur of mottled gray as Gabrielle's speed became incredible, her movements catlike and precise.

She had on thick soled biker boots, the kind that were more closely related to platform shoes than actual boots. Which also meant she could put an enormous amount of pressure in a kick without hurting herself. Instead of aiming the first kick at the gunmen, though, she had managed to get herself and Henri-Mae not three feet from the very back, where the huge door was bolted shut from the inside.

One kick. That was all it took. Unfortunately, the catch was at the top, and when the door fell open, it fell like a makeshift ramp. To make matters worse, Henri-Mae had been propelled against the door with the force of Gabrielle's movements, and when the door gave way, she found herself tipping backwards and out into the open air.

Something caught her. She wasn't sure what, but something slowed her fall and gave her enough control of her movements to stay on the door and not go toppling onto the freeway, which whizzed past her at a dizzying speed. She wound up on the upper part of the door, low enough to avoid the hailstorm after her, high enough to keep from getting burned by the fireworks of sparks being caused by the metal scraping viciously against the road. She looked up but couldn't see anything – just a blur of motion coming from the truck, and the flickering light of the makeshift embers.

She wasn't sure which way to go. Back toward the truck would mean getting shot. Farther down toward the freeway meant a nasty burn at the best, being run over at the worst.

She heard a familiar horn.

**Balladeer: Ah, the sweet sounds of Dixie.**

Henri-Mae looked up. A bright orange car was hovering close by.

The General Lee.

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At first, the cousins watched open-mouthed as Henri-Mae came toppling out of the back, just seconds from the gunfire that followed her. How she didn't go tumbling and wind up under the General's wheels was impossible, but even more impossible was how Gabrielle was keeping from getting riddled with holes. She charged back into the fray, and guns came tumbling toward the back of the truck. One of them landed in the far corner, the handle of which just tottered over the edge.

Henri-Mae seemed to get her bearings when out of impulse Bo had blasted the horn. Slowly she turned herself, and crawled back up toward the truck. She saw the gun and reached for it, but a man suddenly went flying out of the back of the blur and knocked the gun clean from her grasp. It wasn't so much that he made a grab for it himself, but he was tumbling unconscious and would have followed Henri-Mae right onto the opened door himself. She stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was going to get up, but when he didn't move, a cold feeling rushed over her, wondering if he was---

A hand grasped her. She was being pulled back into the trailer. She recognized Gabrielle, looking a bit like she'd just stepped out of a tornado.

"You okay?" she shouted.

Henri-Mae could only nod.

Gabrielle pointed at the General Lee. Bo saw it instantly. She crooked her finger, indicating them to get closer. Instead, the Dodge Charger just swerved – with those sparks still flying, getting too close was a real hazard.

Henri-Mae looked back into the trailer. Several men lay unconscious, but Farrell didn't seem to be among them. "Where's Danny!" she shouted at Gabrielle over the scream of the wind.

"Don't worry," Gabrielle said. "I got it covered. You're getting your butt over to the General – it's not safe for you over here."

Henri-Mae stared at her for a moment. She couldn't have heard her right. "You want me to jump?" she asked, incredulous.

Gabrielle smiled at her. She grasped Henri-Mae by the upper arms, and with the ease of tossing a child, she sent her gently through the air.

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	13. The Traveling Circus

Disclaimer: No owning, no suing.

Sorry this took so long. I know there are people out there reading, just not reviewing, so I'm going to keep punishing you by updating. And BTW, its okay to leave a review long after I've completed the story, I'll take it! Any feedback, even late feedback, is okay. And I can't help but get a kick out of the fact that I've created such a character of controversy. Come on, you want to complain about how crazy Henri-Mae is? I'm all ears! I love debate! LOL. ANyway, this is the final chapter of THIS installment. I should begin posting the next installment within the next few weeks, after I get the ending finished and the rest of it polished off. So beware...you have not heard the last of Henri-Mae Locke!

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An obscenity that would have gotten his mouth washed out with soap by Uncle Jesse's own hand escaped from Bo's mouth as Gabrielle tossed Henri-Mae right toward the General Lee. She landed against the windshield, causing it to crack in a spider-web pattern, but she didn't slide off.

"Slow down!" Luke cried.

"If I do I'll throw her off!" Bo barked back, struggling to decelerate slowly enough so as not to destroy the friction between Henri-Mae and the General, as it was the only thing keeping her on. He lifted his foot from the gas pedal, and once it became clear that he was no longer flying with the traffic, he swerved gently onto the shoulder.

Gabrielle had stayed put long enough to make sure Henri-Mae had landed without breaking her neck. Then she jumped and grabbed hold of the edge of the roof and swung herself up as if it were a balancing bar. Righting herself, she walked as if taking a stroll down a crowded street, right across the trailer roof, heading for the cab.

For several moments, nothing happened. As the General came to a halt, which took a considerable number of minutes, the semi seemed to charge on straight. Gabrielle had reached the cab, and had climbed down on top of it. She managed to get in through the driver's side window, which was when things got interesting. The semi began to serve, more violently as the time passed, and suddenly it was screaming as its breaks were set into motion. The stop was too sudden – the truck couldn't take it. Slowly, it went from driving straight to turning at an angle, the cab going one way and the trailer another. Soon it was sideways and sliding uncontrollably across the freeway, until it could no longer take the pressure and tumbled forward, falling on its side, yet still going ever forward.

Bo put the General into park. He slid out and sat on the door's edge, unsure of whether to look at Henri-Mae and make sure her arm hadn't been broken when it had slammed into the windshield, or to watch as the traffic disaster in front of them unfolded.

Henri-Mae was pushing herself off the hood of the car. Her feet were unsteady, though, as her body struggled to compensate for the tremendous amount of stress it had just endured, and when they touched ground, her knees buckled. Bo reached for her, now on his feet himself, but she didn't seem to feel him. Her eyes were locked on the spectacle, expression torn between an adrenaline induced glee of having survived such an incident, and sheer terror from knowing how close she'd been to getting killed.

Something was still moving. For the first time, Henri-Mae saw the motorcycle, for it had circled back around the semi like a dog dancing eagerly around a tree with a cat chased up into its branches. "Nice bike," she murmured, unaware of herself.

Bo's eyes were back on the scene, too. Luke had started to move forward, wanting to help, not knowing how.

The cab's driver's side door was facing up. It was pushed open from within, and Gabrielle's head appeared, followed by her shoulders, and then her whole torso as she pulled herself to sit right on the side of the truck.

Her partner, whom Henri-Mae had not yet met, pulled to a stop just below her. They exchanged words, and Gabrielle reached back into the cab, producing Farrell, whom she had by the collar, like a naughty pet.

The interesting thing, in the midst of all of this, was something long and black curved along Gabrielle's cheek. Like a snake had embedded itself against her skin. A gleam of sunlight caught it and showed a metallic reflection. With her other hand, Gabrielle had pressed her fingers to her ear, where it ended – or began, depending on your perspective. And she was speaking.

"You're sure?" she said, and there was a sparking in her eyes, a kind of fierce pride that only comes with knowing how good of a job you've done.

"Sure of what?" Henri-Mae asked as she attempted to step forward, with bare minimum success.

Bo and Luke looked at each other, puzzled. Bo had one hand clamped firmly on Henri-Mae's arm. Neither noticed.

"I don't understand," Luke said, the most clearly thinking person at the moment, as he hadn't been driving, "I thought you were after terrorists."

"And we got them," Michael said.

"This is Michael," Gabrielle said to Henri-Mae. "My regular partner."

"Terrorists?" Gabrielle echoed.

As if on cue, a white Cadillac containing a Sheriff way out of his territory pulled up to the scene. The Atlanta Police Department was around them like buzzing gnats, and it seemed too much to ask that any questions would get answered.

Henri-Mae felt a hand on her shoulder. Gabrielle was beside her, smiling gently. "I'll explain everything, later," she said.

"Henri-Mae!" came Boss' agitated voice as he hustled his chubby cheeks to the scene, Rosco on his heels, "Henri-Mae, are you okay?"

The sight of Boss just brought it back. How he had treated her. How Farrell had attempted to take advantage of her. She turned on the captured Fed, now in the hands of police officers with dark blue uniforms and shining silver badges, and stomped up to him.

"Sometimes, cheap shots are what works," she said into his face, and then she kicked him as hard as humanly possible, causing him to double over – or quadruple over, considering he wasn't upright to begin with – in sheer agony. She turned and flounced back over to Boss.

"Feel better?" the older man asked hopefully.

"It's a start," she said, folding her arms crossly. She stared down at the man.

**Balladeer: Henri-Maehad half a mind to just quit then and there, run off with Gabrielle and Michael, as if they were the traveling circus. If they'd even take her. From the redness of his cheeks, it was apparent that Boss was well aware of how badly he screwed up. For the man to show shame, however, must have meant that he was getting it from outside his own practically non-existent conscience. Rosco looked mad enough to start spitting bullets, and his glare was directed at Boss. There was also a reddening hand-print on his cheek, small and delicately shaped. It had to have come from Lulu. No doubt word about the incident in the Sheriff's office had traveled as fast as she'd feared.**

" Look, I'm sorry," he said, running the brim of his hat through his fingers, "but we caught the guy, he's gettin'what he deserves…"

"Boss," Bo said, suddenly unable to help himself, as the realization just flooded through him and the adrenaline burst it wide open in a haze of red, "were you in on this before that creep attacked Henri-Mae? And you still didn't put him behind bars?"

Boss spluttered and looked at Gabrielle, as if pleading for help. "That would be my fault, guys," she said. "I wouldn't let him jail Farrell. We had to wait for him to make his contact or all of this would have been for nothing."

Henri-Mae turned on Gabrielle. Softly, almost so that no one else could hear over the traffic still humming nearby, she said, "You mean it was a set-up?"

"We weren't setting _you_ up, Henri-Mae," Gabrielle said.

"And what if he had raped me?" Henri-Mae went on, oblivious, "What then? Would you have let him walk then?"

"I knew you could take care of yourself," Gabrielle began, but an angry clearing of the throat from Michael stopped her. She turned, and looked distinctly embarrassed by the look he was giving her. "It was for a greater good," she said. "Come on, I would never have let him _hurt_ you—"

"Oh, you did a great job protecting me yesterday," Henri-Mae snapped.

"Look, I'm sorry," Gabrielle said. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"You can't," Henri-Mae said. She folded her arms, the small cluster of them practically oblivious to the teams of workers around them, cleaning up their mess, watching their little drama unfold. No one said a word of reproval to either of them – in fact, they kept a respectful distance. "You're worse than all of them! You're just a big player!"

"I'm one of the good guys!" Gabrielle said in a small voice. "Come on, Henri-Mae… terrorists! And after beating me at racquetball the other day I was sure you could protect yourself—"

"She bet you at racquetball?" Michael said, cutting into the conversation.

Gabrielle looked at him, distinctly sheepish. She shrugged. "She's got a good jump," she said.

"And you didn't throw the game?" Michael asked, leaning in a little closer. Gabrielle just gave him a dirty look. "Congratulations," he said to Henri-Mae. "If you beat Gabe here in a racquetball game, you were more than a match for Farrell and his bag of tricks."

This seemed to mollify her a bit.

"But still, Gabrielle owes you," Michael went on, folding his arms.

"I'm going to train her!" Gabrielle insisted.

Michael snorted. "Big deal. I mean something really big." He looked back at his bike, and then at Henri-Mae. He made a motion. "How about that?"

"About what?" Henri-Mae asked.

"The bike?" Gabrielle echoed.

"Go on," Michael said. "You can ride, can't you?"

Henri-Mae took a little step forward towards the shining back thing. It gleamed in the mid-morning light like a toy on Christmas Day. Her jaw had dropped a bit, but when she reached out with her fingers to caress the smooth surface of the front windshield, which curved around sleek and sharp and tinted black, she remembered to moisten her lips. "You're serious?" she managed.

"Yeah," Gabrielle said, a hint of reluctance in her voice. "I can always get another one."

Michael snorted. "It's practically new," he said. "She's ridden it once. She'll get another one like that." He snapped his fingers. "You take this one."

Henri-Mae looked at them, skeptically. "Feds get paid that much?" she said.

Both agents just looked at her.

_You really aren't Feds, are you_? Henri-Mae wondered in her head. As if they'd heard her, both shook their manes of silky blond hair. They seemed almost like angels, with their golden locks and bright blue eyes.

Boss interrupted the moment as he came forward. "Well, see? No harm done. And I'll even pay to get the Sheriff logo painted on it for you."

"Not so fast," Henri-Mae said, her earlier humiliation still lingering in her memory. "I want something else, too."

"What is it?" Boss asked.

"First of all, if you do paint a logo on this pretty bike, it's gonna be a really tiny one. In the back."

"What else?" he asked, squinting her in distrust.

"Two weeks paid vacation," Henri-Mae said.

"What!" the fat man barked.

"I need time to recover from this." She folded her arms and tossed her hair from her eyes. She looked very put-upon. Bo and Luke couldn't help smirking at each other.

Boss turned around as if to walk away and reject her offer, but Rosco planted himself in his path, still so angry he couldn't speak. He glared down at Boss, and the most amazing thing happened.

Boss caved. "All right," he said. "Two weeks with pay," he added miserably. Rosco nodded his head and some of his anger eased.

**Balladeer: Folks, you just witnessed a moment in history, where Rosco stood up to Boss and won. First time for everything, I suppose.**

"Be back at work in two weeks, Henri-Mae?" Rosco asked, as Boss went around him to get back into his car and put this misery behind him.

"Two weeks, Sheriff," Henri-Mae said, winking at him. Rosco tipped his hat at her and followed Boss to his car, where they headed back to Hazzard.

"I think Rosco is a little sweet on her," Luke said to Bo in an undertone. Bo just looked at him, pained.

"Henri-Mae and Rosco? I don't think so."

"So what are you going to do with those two weeks?" Michael asked Henri-Mae. She looked to Gabrielle.

"A promise is a promise," she said to her.

"True enough," Gabrielle said. "Mind if I hitch a ride on my old bike?"

Henri-Mae smiled and scooped up the helmet. It slid over her head, as if it had been made for her. "You get shotgun," she said, swinging her leg over. The engine roared to life sweetly and smoothly, like a singing bird having just awoken.

**Balladeer: And that's the legend of how Hazzard did it's little bit in the war against terrorism. Henri-Mae got her two weeks off, but after the workout Gabrielle gave her, she needed another two to recover, and not even Boss Hogg was gonna give her that. But now she can toss a man over her shoulder like he was a bail of hay and not break a sweat, and that's sayin' something. **

The End! Don't worry, it's not over until the fat lady sings, and I currently have larengitis. :)


End file.
